Sill 
 
 
IfMilHs 
 
REV. JOHN L. DYER. 
 
SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 REV. JOHN L^YER, 
 
 FAMILIARLY KNOWN AS " FATHER DYER," 
 
 Colorado Copf^r^pce, Mebl^odisb Kpiscopal Cljurcl). 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY MRS. HELEN H. CHAIN, 
 DENVER, COLORADO. 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY CRANSTON & STOWE. 
 1890. 
 
Copyright by 
 
 JO H N L. DYER, 
 
 1889. 
 
. 
 Bancroft Library 
 
 WORDS INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 IT were easy to have edited Father Dyer out 
 of his book. But, dressed in my diction, he 
 would have been a sorry masquerader. The sur- 
 vivors of The Fountain and Buckskin Joe would 
 not have recognized him. Trie placers of Fair 
 Play and the diggings of Breckenridge would have 
 turned their backs upon him. All would have 
 been disappointed to find the conventional minis- 
 ter where they had the right to expect the unique 
 individuality of the frontiersman. "Next to the 
 biography of Peter Cartwright," says Prof. S. W. 
 Williams, who has edited more manuscript than 
 any man in our Church, "this is the most in- 
 teresting in the annals of American Methodism.'* 
 I trust that Father Dyer's hosts of friends will 
 enjoy the story even as they love the story-teller, 
 and see and hear him in every chapter; that his 
 worthy successor in the Colorado Conference will 
 catch the fervor of his dauntless spirit; and that 
 his artless narrative will contribute somewhat of 
 value to the History of Rocky Mountain Meth- 
 odism. 
 
4 WORDS INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 I have gone over these pages alone, and with 
 my venerable and beloved brother, until their 
 personality has possessed me, and I and the Snow- 
 shoe Itinerant seem to be one. But now his snow- 
 shoes are to bear him in one direction, and I am 
 summoned in another. As for him, I have no 
 fears. The same good Providence which has 
 guided him safely from Santa Fe to North Park, 
 and through the gulches of the Sangre de Christo 
 and the passes of the Continental Divide, will 
 gently lead him u Over the Range " at last, on 
 whose yonder sunny slopes he will meet the com- 
 panions and friends of his youth, that son whose 
 untimely taking off dashed his cup with bitter sor- 
 row, and, best of all, the Divine One, on whose altar 
 he has laid an unselfish and noble life. As for me, 
 I doubt not that the editorial pen will write in more 
 heroic character for the example of Father Dyer, 
 the Cartwright of the Rockies,. the pioneer hero 
 of Frontier Methodism, with whom I hope by and 
 by to sit down in our Father's house in heaven. 
 
 DAVID H. MOORE. 
 EDITORIAI, ROOMS, 
 WESTERN CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE, 
 December, 1889. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ancestry and Early Youth How his Great Grandfather got 
 to America Life in Virginia and Kentucky Blazing the 
 Way into Ohio The Darbys-Dyer's Mills The Fosters 
 Freeborn Garrettson An Evil Prophecy " Tom " Corwin 
 as a Temperance Lecturer An Old-fashioned Family Altar 
 Apprenticed to the Plow Pioneer Preachers Two Notable 
 Camp-meetings Bascoin's Manly Beauty Finley and his 
 Indian Converts " The Jerks" Youthful Sports 'Coon- 
 skin Currency A Normal Case of Buck Fever The Win- 
 ter School Barring out the Teacher Glade Run versus 
 Big Darby Mathematics in the Big Woods The First 
 Sunday-school in Georgeville, PAGE n 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Unites With the Church Dread of the Class-meeting Con- 
 version " Innocent Amusements " The Family removes 
 to Illinois The Wilderness ^Hunting a Home Caught in 
 a January Storm Primitive Hospitality His Father in 
 Peril Black Hawk War Volunteers "Westerner's De- 
 feat" Ross's Escapade End of the War The Crash of 
 1837 The Church survives Full Salvation Praying for 
 Death Made a Class-leader Brings up the Preacher's 
 Salary Marries Harriet Foster Death of his Wife, 1847 A 
 Sad Mistake Divorce Lead-mining in Wisconsin Made a 
 Local Preacher "Brushed" at the Old Stone Church An 
 Unexpected Revival Jonah " Hoist " Surrenders A 
 Supply on Wingville and Lancaster Circuit A Rowdy at the 
 Mourners' Bench Admitted to Wisconsin Conference and 
 sent to Elk Grove Circuit, 25 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Admitted to Conference Tragic Death of the Divorced Wife 
 Salary of $100 Fond du Lac Conference Franklin and 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 Wingville Lincoln the Shouter A Singular Dream Di- 
 viding the House "This Place belongs to the Old Lady" 
 Chauncey Hobart's Ague Fit Fayette Circuit Cholera An 
 Awful Experience A Successful Thief Cold Comfort A 
 Hospitable Infidel A String of Fish " I have made up my 
 Mind to go" Prayer Answered A Warning A Fight at 
 Camp-meeting Suckers The Beautiful Country, PAGE 48 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Richland Mission, Minnesota Marriage of Rachel On the 
 Road Bethel Tragic Death of Robert Revivals Every- 
 where Trip to Wisconsin The Second Camp-meeting in 
 Minnesota The Crash of 1857 The First Conference held 
 in Minnesota Caledonia or Preston Circuit Surety 
 Pastoral Visiting " How long does Thee intend to hold these 
 Meetings?" Running from a Shouting Wife A Pioneer 
 Temperance Crusader " The Most Industrious Little Mill 
 I ever saw " " The Fifth Time, it went off "Confer- 
 ence at St. Paul Anecdote of Bishop Morris Austin 
 Circuit, 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 En route to Austin Swimming Root River A Bare-footed 
 Sermon A Mischievous Immersion Stuck in a Slough 
 Moses Mapes The Black "Horse and his Rider A Revival 
 Cloud-burst Specimen Converts A Liberal Baptist The 
 State-line Broken The Three-cent Seeker A Providential 
 Haul Conference at St. Anthony Crossing the Zumbro 
 on a Raft Camp-meeting on the Chippewa Prescott Con- 
 ference Chauncey Hobart Rice Lake and Chippewa 
 Squaws Indian Bargain Menominee Mills Captain Wil- 
 sonWhiskyAn Irate Father North-west Wisconsin Con- 
 ference Security Debts, 87 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Off for Pike's Peak Retrospect Great Loss Ox-train 
 Preaching en route Dog Soup Ox-gad versus Rifle" Cut 
 Off," or "Cut On?" A Mad Boss The Last Night on the 
 Plains Denver in 1861 Byers's Printing-office Patriotic 
 Sermon Off for Buckskin Joe Dyer's " Short Account " 
 A Year of Strange Adventures 117 
 
CONTENTS. 7 
 
 CHAPTER. VII. 
 
 On Foot to Denver Colonel Chivington Anecdote of Bige- 
 low On the Blue Bachelor's Hall Turn about with 
 Gamblers Deputy Assessor Snow-shoe Accident "Not 
 Quite Handsome Enough for me to dance with" "You 
 can stand that or make a Temperance Speech," . PAGE 138 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Winter Exodus The Pioneer Theater Revival at Gold Run 
 No longer a "Supply" Up the Blue on Snow-shoes 
 Origin of the Names Tarryall, Buckskin Joe, Fair Play, 
 Mosquito, et al. The Espinosas Raid A Run for Life 
 Baxter Hung Last of the Espinosas Tom Tobin the 
 Avenger, 148 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Traveling the Circuit During the Raid A Bad Scare A 
 " Fearful Porcupine " Bishop Ames organizes the Colorado 
 Conference Typical Instances of Rough Characters in 
 Rough Camps Practical Effects of Dancing-schools . . 156 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Organization of the Rocky Mountain Conference, 1863 Pre- 
 siding Elders Willard and Slaughter Sent to South Park 
 Circuit Flour $15 per Sack Funds exhausted Carrying 
 the Mail on Snow-shoes Laden with Gold Traveling 
 Companions Life-saving An Unwilling Mail-carrier 
 Lonely Trips A Perilous Leap and a Lightning Slide A 
 Pack-cow on the War-path, 162 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Agent for the Rocky Mountain News The Express robbed 
 by " Secesh " A Rebel Rising invited, but not accepted 
 The Chase Experience as a Volunteer The Robbers Cap- 
 tured and " Lost" Corn 13 Cents a Pound Indian Scare 
 Building a Fort in Denver Joking with "Old Chiv." 
 Sand Creek from a Colorado Stand-point The Snow-shoe 
 Preacher a Bishop pro tern. Chivington's Great Speech 
 A Year with Five Quarters A Cattle Baron The Southern 
 District Prospecting New Mexico for Methodism Trini- 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 dad Crossing the Rattqpn An Unexpected Wedding 
 Maxwell's Grant The First Protestant Minister in New 
 Mexico Judge Watts Birthplace of Montezuma The 
 Pueblos The Penitentes Mexican Hospitality Supersti- 
 tion, PAGE 178 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Conference of 1865 Bishop Kingsley Conference Photo- 
 graphed Presiding Elder again Grasshopers Sad Con- 
 tribution to the Union A Fruitless Quest A Run to New 
 York and Boston Robbed Enough of the East $125 
 Stage-fare Atchison to Denver At Work again -Modern 
 Revivals Conference at Empire, 1866 Bishop Baker 
 Acting Bishop Bishop Baker rests at Mr. Burton's South 
 Park District Fort Garland Tom Tobin Father Mach- 
 boeuf Saguache The First Shout in the San Luis Valley 
 Old Chief San Juan as a Comforter Poncha Pass and Cal- 
 ifornia Gulch Unhorsed in the Arkansas A Bare-foot Ser- 
 mon Wilderness Distances Alma Camp-meeting " Stack 
 your Chips and give us a Hearing!" On Snow-shoes 
 again In Peril Delivered Sam Hartzell's Uncle Jesse 
 Frazer's Hard Times for Preachers All Night Ride with 
 Colored Soldiers Little Denver " Be it ever so Humble, 
 there's no Place like Home," 196 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Winter of 1866-67 The Veiled Prophet" Did You bring me 
 any Tobacco?" Salt-works Among the Red-skins Cy 
 Hall as Stage-driver Lost in the Snow Sledding in May 
 Bishop Ames and the Conference of 1867 Early Settlers of 
 Colorado City Camp-meeting Conference Delegate to 
 General Conference W. F. Warren's Good Record Bishop 
 Ames's Travels over Part of my District Incidents of the 
 Excursion Ministerial Courtesy Off to General Confer- 
 ence Shoveling Out Taken for my Father, 216 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 General Conference Committee Work The Indian Ques- 
 tion Battle of the Giants Boundaries Colorado Confer- 
 enceBishop Simpson 231 
 
CONTENTS. 9 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 New Mexico District Kit Carson Mad Indians Illustrative 
 Episode Sheep Cheese An Abiding Wonder! Shutting 
 the Mouths of Owls and Wolves The First Class-leader 
 in New Mexico Rev. Thomas Harwood Whole-souled 
 Miners Lone Rocks In a Texas Corner Wine-press 
 Fort Selden Indians! Fort Craig A Strange Presenti- 
 ment Mrs. Harwood Fort Defiance, Arizona Rev. Mr. 
 Roberts, Presbyterian Board The Navajoe Thieves Fort 
 Sianton An Improvised Warming-pan A Timely Wed- 
 dingDangers Boska Grande Fort Sumner Fort Bas- 
 com Fort Union Ten Thousand Miles on Horseback in 
 Two Years A Bit of New Mexico History, . . . PAGE 240 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Conference at Central City Bishop Kingsley Conference of 
 1870 Pueblo Bishop Ames Divide Circuit Married to 
 Mrs. Lucinda P. Rankin Lynch Law Elbert County 
 Benediction and Dancing Wm. Bonafield's Close Call 
 Was it an Assassin? Miles Madden shot Father's 
 Death Evans, Platteville, and Fort Lupton A Severe Ac- 
 cident Geo. H. Adams Sister Williams Then and Now 
 A Pleasant Visit A Difficult Backout Conference, 1873 
 Greeley and Bishop Andrews, 260 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A Three Weeks' Jaunt Smashed up Service at Father's 
 Grave Wash-burn Creek Dyer's Mine Patient Burro 
 Brave Maiden Sunday at Alma Back to Erie 1874 Con- 
 ference Colorado Springs Bishop Bowman Monument 
 Circuit Bowling Alley Parsonage Building 1875 Confer- 
 enceCentral City Bishop Haven A Joyous Fourth- 
 Assassination of my Son Elias -Cast down, but not for- 
 saken, 277 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Lake County Judge of Probate Early Strife The Case of 
 Elijah Gibbs A Mob "Come out and be hung like a 
 Man" The Attack The Successful Defense Gibbs's Flight 
 and Pursuit The Committee of Safety Elias Dyer Judge 
 
io CONTENTS. 
 
 Offends the Committee In Peril Hardin murdered From 
 Bad to Worse Trials for Law Brave Andy Wilson The 
 Arrows of the Lord The Judge murdered PAGE 285 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Report of the Tragedy in the Rocky Mountain News A. View 
 from the Inside Letter from J. McPherson Correspond- 
 ence of the Fair Play Sentinel Item from the News Ex- 
 tract from Country Paper Letter from Judge Dyer 
 Another Letter from the Judge Letter of James H. 
 Johnston Last Letter of Judge Dyer Dispatch in the 
 Rocky Mountain News Extract from a Country Paper 
 Another Letter from McPherson He is appointed Pro- 
 bate Judge My Son's Estate administered upon Sale of 
 Dyer's Mine Reflections, 297 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Conference of 1876 Boulder and Bishop Harris Fair Play and 
 Alma A. J. Smith Governor Bross's Doxology Dump- 
 house of the Dolly Varden The First Preaching on Mount 
 Lincoln A Marriage in High Life Supernumerary in 
 1877 Conference 1879, Bishop Merrill 1880, Bishop War- 
 ren Ignorance or Worse ? Indian Scare A Moral 
 pointed Father Meeker Smut Success Breckenridge 
 First Church on the Western Slope in Colorado Confer- 
 ence Lessons in Prospecting The Warrior's Mark How 
 Stockholders are swindled, . 322 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Sister Van Cott at Breckenridge Conference at Leadville 
 The First " Fifth Collection " all mine and for the Uni- 
 versity of Denver Rauchero Wife's Tragic Flight Cloud- 
 burst To Denver Chaplain of the State Senate Brecken- 
 ridge again "Hair-hung and Breath-shaken" Religious 
 Beginnings of Denver, 341 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Gold and Silver Mining in Colorado Smelters N. P. Hill 
 Governor Gilpin, Crank or Prophet ; Which? Coal Iron 
 Hot Springs Climbing for Life The News Governor 
 Evans, 35 
 
SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 Y friends, both in and out of the ministry, 
 have for years urged me to write the story 
 of my life. At last I have come to think that I 
 ought to do so. I am assured that but a few days 
 remain to me, and that what I do must be quickly 
 done. God has wondrously led me, and what I 
 write I consecrate to him. May his Spirit guide 
 my pen ! 
 
 The name I bear so far as our records go 
 begins with my great-grandfather stepping on to 
 an English ship, when a lad, without leave of the 
 officers, bound for America. With others, he was 
 sold out for a specified time to pay his passage. 
 But he fell into good hands, and his apprentice- 
 ship was worth all it cost. He became the owner 
 of a desirable tract of land in Pendleton County, 
 Virginia; married; was blessed with two sons 
 Roger and John and a daughter. His eventful 
 career was cut off by the Indians before he reached 
 middle life. His widow married a Mr. Cravens, 
 and bore him several children. One of these was 
 
 the Rev. Wm. Cravens better known as Billy 
 
 ii 
 
12 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Cravens a Methodist, fearless and determined, 
 dealing still -houses and dram - drinking fearful 
 blows, and certainly the boldest anti-slavery man 
 of his age. 
 
 John, the second of the two boys named be- 
 fore, was my grandfather. He married Miss Jane 
 Morrel. The third of their nine children, Samuel 
 Dyer, my father, was born in Pendleton County, 
 Virginia, March 23, 1786. In the spring of 1788, 
 the family moved into Kentucky, and settled 
 within six miles of Lexington. Ten years later, in 
 the spring of 1798, they moved to Ohio, not yet a 
 State, and made their home at Station Prairie 
 a stronghold against Indians below Chillicothe. 
 In 1800 my grandfather moved to the junction of 
 the Darbys, in Franklin County, where he built the 
 first grist-mill in Central Ohio, on a tract of land 
 containing six hundred acres. It is still known as 
 Dyer's Mills. 
 
 Grandfather was quite a character in his way. 
 He had a saw-mill, also, and when a fine cherry- 
 log was brought one day, he selected enough of 
 the planks into which it was sawed to make him 
 a coffin, stored them in the loft of his log house, 
 and when he died they were used as he intended. 
 He was not a Church member, but was anxious to 
 hear the Word. Learning of a young Methodist 
 preacher who had come within eight miles, he sent 
 an invitation for him to preach at his house, which 
 was declined because grandfather was not a mem- 
 ber! Nothing discouraged, he sent for Lewis 
 Foster, who came gladly, and who, when grand- 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 13 
 
 father died January 12, 1812 preached his fu- 
 neral sermon. My grandmother died in great peace 
 a few years later. She was a Methodist of the old 
 stamp. Her memory is precious. 
 
 As my mother was a daughter of this Lewis 
 Foster, it will not be out of place to present him 
 to my readers. He was a native of Baltimore 
 County, Maryland; married Miss Ann Davis, and 
 spent a long and happy life with her and the large 
 family which blessed their union. He was con- 
 verted in early life, and joined the Church under 
 Freeborn Garrettson. I heard him state that he 
 thought Garrettson was the best-looking man he 
 ever saw, when he would ride up to his father's to 
 preach, and say: "Boys, feed my horse well, for he 
 has lost two holes in girth since I was here last." 
 
 His father was a local preacher before him, and 
 he was but twenty-two when he began proclaiming 
 the gospel. In 1800 he moved his family from 
 Pennsylvania to Ohio, blazing their way, his wagon 
 being the first that ever made the journey from 
 Wheeling to Chillicothe. He made his settlement 
 in Madison County, where West Jefferson now 
 stands, and labored for the Church as a respected 
 and successful local preacher. 
 
 On one occasion, probably 1820, when I was a 
 small boy, father took the family to a camp-meet- 
 ing, where Russel Bigelow presided and preached 
 one of his most wonderful sermons. Strange to 
 say, my grandfather was called on to follow him, 
 although there were eminent ministers present. 
 After the preliminaries were closed, he rose trem- 
 
14 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 blingly and said: "I can see but one reason why I 
 have been called on to speak at this hour, and that 
 is, if I fail I have but little to lose." It was later 
 in life I learned the full force of that expression. 
 Suffice it to say that, before he was through, the 
 people were carried away above preacher and an- 
 gels to Christ Jesus. Such a rising and shouting 
 for joy and crying for mercy I have seldom if ever 
 witnessed from that day to this. I dwell on these 
 details with fondness, for I am- proud of my Meth- 
 odist lineage, and of the fact that I can trace the 
 ministry in our family back through grandfather to 
 great-grandfather Foster. 
 
 In October, 1810, at the Foster homestead in 
 Madison County, my father, Samuel Dyer, and Cas- 
 sandra Foster were married. I was born March 
 1 6, 1812, at the junction of the Darbys, near the 
 old mill, and named John Lewis, for my two grand- 
 fathers. My father was justice of the peace, and 
 among the men that frequented his primitive court 
 was a Mr. T., who was generally half-drunk, and 
 would persist, when in that condition, in shaking 
 hands with me, although I was scarcely more than 
 four years old. On one occasion, seeing him com- 
 ing, I hid behind mother as she sat spinning flax 
 on her little wheel, and said: "He is drunk, and I 
 will not shake hands." But he saw me, and when 
 I drew back, he said: "What Is the matter with 
 that child?" She told him what I had said. That 
 raised his Irish. He stamped his foot, and said: 
 " That child will make a drunkard as sure as he 
 lives. I have never seen a child that hated a 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 15 
 
 drunken man but would surely be a drunkard." 
 I was badly frightened, but never forgot his angry 
 prophecy. I was born with a love for whisky. I 
 can not remember when, at the smell of it, water 
 did not gather on my tongue. But whenever I 
 tasted it, the thought of old T. came into my mind 
 and terrified me. 
 
 Not long after, another event occurred which 
 helped to save me. Father was laid up with 
 rheumatism, and the young people of the neigh- 
 borhood gathered to pull his flax. As the custom 
 was, he provided a quart of whisky and a bucket 
 of water, which I sat in the shade to dispense. 
 Never did anything look so tempting. I thought 
 I could mix the whisky with water, so that it 
 would not strangle me, and drink all I wanted and 
 nobody know anything about it. So mixing up a 
 half tin-cup full, I drank until it did not taste good 
 any more. The next thing I remember was look- 
 ing toward the house over a small field of wheat. 
 The stalks seemed to be about seven feet high, 
 and the heads nearly a foot long, and they all ap- 
 peared to be pitching over each other. So I thought 
 it impossible to get home, lay down, and was car- 
 ried to the house. That was my first and last 
 "drunk." When I had grown to young manhood, 
 I heard "Tom" Corwin deliver a temperance lec- 
 ture. His experience and arguments captivated 
 me, and I signed the pledge, and ever since have 
 practiced temperance closely and advocated it ear- 
 nestly. Old T.'s prediction, thanks be unto God, 
 was never fulfilled. 
 
1 6 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I could not have been more than six years old 
 when I had a great trial. My father made a pro- 
 fession of religion. He asked the blessing before 
 eating, which seemed to me a great waste of time. 
 He had family prayers night and morning. But 
 a few days passed before some friends came to see 
 us. All the afternoon I thought, Father can 't 
 pray like a preacher, and, if I were in his place, 
 I would put off praying till they leave. But he 
 never quit while he lived. Mother's heart was 
 full of joy. She had been a professor since four- 
 teen years of age. Now her husband walked with 
 her, and all was gladness. Memory lingers on our 
 old-fashioned family altar. My mother had never 
 learned music, but she knew the tunes to the good 
 old hymns. How appropriate her songs were ! 
 In the morning, 
 
 "Awake my soul, to meet the day; 
 Unfold thy drowsy eves." 
 
 Or- 
 
 "Once more, my soul, the rising day 
 Salutes thy waking eyes." 
 
 Her sweet voice put life into the hymn ; and 
 the prayer that followed was surely heard in 
 heaven. 
 
 As we had a farm, the clearing was hard, and 
 I was kept close at work early and late. Almost 
 as soon as I could reach the plow-handles, I was 
 set to plowing. If I had not gone at least two 
 rounds across a ten-acre field before sunrise, it was 
 thought a late start. 
 
 This was before we ever heard of a Sunday- 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 17 
 
 school, say in 1820. At that early day the Meth- 
 odist preachers were almost our only expounders 
 of God's Word. They faithfully followed the 
 settlers, thirsting for the salvation of souls, almost 
 regardless of pay. And what men of God they 
 were ! John Collins, John Sale, Robert W. Finley, 
 James B. Finley, his son, and many others of that 
 noble stamp. Known almost as far as they could 
 be seen by their saddle-bags, in which most of 
 their valuables were carried, they traveled large 
 circuits, often swimming swollen streams and en- 
 during all manner of hardships, preaching almost 
 daily, receiving only food and clothing. They 
 were not hirelings, but shepherds caring for the 
 sheep, and looking for their reward at the great 
 day. I hope to see them crowned after the resur- 
 rection with crowns made by God's own hands. 
 
 In those times, the quarterly and two-days' 
 meetings were institutions of Methodism. The 
 fourth quarterly meeting was a camp-meeting. 
 They were looked forward to with prayer as sea- 
 sons of revival. I shall never forget my first 
 camp-meeting! Henry B. Bascom was there in 
 his youthful vigor. He was called "the Kentucky 
 preacher;" was supposed to be the finest-looking 
 man then living; was surpassingly eloquent, and 
 fully baptized with the Holy Ghost. He preached 
 the ii o'clock sermon. The people for miles 
 around were present, and made an immense crowd. 
 I remember the man and the scenes better than the 
 discourse. There was a death-like stillness, while 
 both preacher and Spirit seemed to work upon the 
 
i8 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 hearers. At the close, there was a call for seekers. 
 The altar was filled with penitents, and others in 
 groups all through the congregation were crying 
 aloud for mercy. An old man and his wife find 
 two sons and a daughter at the altar, crying, 
 "Save, Lord; I perish!" The sons had perse- 
 cuted the father, who now kneels between them, 
 exhorting them with a voice almost like thunder 
 to surrender all to God ; the mother meanwhile 
 equally engaged for her daughter. After a hard 
 struggle, the blessing comes, and the prayers of 
 children and parents are turned into praises. Add 
 to this scene scores of similar ones, and the reader 
 may have some idea of a camp-meeting more than 
 sixty years ago. 
 
 Stimulated by the example of the Methodists, 
 the Presbyterians, I believe, held series of services 
 which they called " protracted meetings." Our 
 protracted meetings were called u revivals." It is 
 a blessed fact that our meetings were never "pro- 
 tracted " without becoming revivals. The coming 
 of the presiding elder and the quarterly meeting 
 was the sign of Pentecost. What wonder that 
 this announcement came into general use: "We 
 will begin a revival at this place at the next reg- 
 ular appointment?" 
 
 The presence of converted Indians fixed another 
 camp-meeting indelibly in my mind. It was held 
 on Big Darby Creek bottom, in the Chenoweth 
 settlement. James B. Finley was presiding elder, 
 and was in charge of the Indian Mission at San- 
 dusky. The announcement that he would bring 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 19 
 
 seven or eight converted Indians, called together 
 an unusually large number. The first I saw of 
 the Indians was when the horn sounded for morn- 
 ing service. The eight came out, clothed as white 
 men, their long black hair combed down upon 
 their shoulders ; and, taking their seats, began, 
 without book or notes, to sing, in their own tongue : 
 
 " O how happy are they, who their Savior obey, 
 And have laid up their treasure above!" 
 
 The long hymn was too short ; for it was a 
 feast to hear them sing. Those Indians had given 
 up that part of the country, and now they were 
 back, singing, with the spirit and the understand- 
 ing, those hymns that w r ere afterwards sung in 
 every settlement, and called "the Indians' tunes." 
 
 One of the eight was a preacher ; and was 
 called up into the stand to preach. A Negro was 
 interpreter. I do not remember much of the ser- 
 mon. When interpreted, it seemed to come second- 
 handed. Since then, several times I have tried to 
 have my own talks interpreted to Mexicans, but 
 the result was never satisfactory. The fire and 
 power of the original, such as it was, never ap- 
 peared in the translation. 
 
 This camp-meeting was a season never to be 
 forgotten. Finley, just in his physical and spiritual 
 prime, preached at n o'clock, and all through the 
 day he seemed to move heaven and earth. The 
 Holy Spirit was poured out, and scores were cry- 
 ing for mercy, and as many others shouting the 
 praise of God. Some were stricken down with 
 
20 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 conviction, and lay like dead men, but would 
 come to life again, shouting happy. 
 
 Scenes like this were common. The "jerks," 
 a peculiar physical phenomenon connected with 
 religious excitement, had mostly ceased. They 
 began in Kentucky. At Cane Ridge Camp-meet- 
 ing, held by the Presbyterians and Methodists, 
 men fell by the scores. A physician thought he 
 could raise them. He was called, and with his 
 preparation of hartshorn went to work. But no 
 sooner had he reached the fallen men, than he fell 
 himself. 
 
 I remember to have seen but one case. It was 
 that of a good woman an own aunt of Hon. 
 W. N. Byers, of Denver who was strangely exer- 
 cised. As two women held her, she jerked her 
 head so violently, that her long hair became 
 loosened and snapped like whip-crackers. Some 
 called this "the falling fanaticism;" but, with 
 others, I have thought that the times required 
 some strange thing to awaken the Church and 
 arouse the people, who were just out of Indian 
 wars, almost without books to read, sadly neglectful 
 of the Bible, and forgetful of God. 
 
 As I stated before, we had plenty of hard work; 
 but mixed with it were the amusements peculiar 
 to pioneer life. Among these was hunting. The 
 forests abounded in raccoons, wild turkeys, and 
 deer. Every boy was familiar with the use of the 
 rifle old-fashioned muzzle-loaders, powder-horn 
 and charger, and patch and ball, and flint-lock. 
 
 When acorns failed, the raccoons ravaged our 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 21 
 
 corn-fields. That made sport for us boys. It was 
 night-work, and all the more interesting on that 
 account. My brother Robert and I would take a 
 horse and our 'coon-dog, and seldom return empty- 
 handed. We used no guns ; but would tree the 
 'coon, climb after him, shake him off, and leave the 
 dog to make the finish, which was not always 
 an easy task, as the 'coon was capable of making 
 an obstinate fight. On one occasion, we treed two 
 on the same tree. As I climbed the tree, one 
 jumped off, but the dog chased him up after me ; 
 so that I had one above and one below me. I 
 succeeded in shaking them both off, far more easily 
 than I have shaken off book-agents since then, 
 and the dog quickly dispatched them. The same 
 night we treed another on a large honey-locust, 
 too full of thorns to climb. But there was a 
 hackberry-tree by its side, by which I climbed 
 above the worst of the thorns, and then got over 
 on to the locust. The coon was at least sixty 
 feet from the ground ; but I followed him to the 
 top and shook him off. He proved to be the 
 largest one we ever caught. Never did I look to 
 the top of that tree in day-time but the blood 
 tingled to the end of my toes. I could not have 
 climbed there in daylight. Money was scarce in 
 those times, and 'coon-skins were almost currency 
 at twenty-five cents apiece. So when we counted 
 seven as the result of a single hunt, Robert and I 
 felt ''passing rich." 
 
 Deer-hunting was more to my notion, although 
 my first experience was not calculated to inflate 
 
22 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 my pride. I espied a noble animal at a short dis- 
 tance, and was undiscovered. Never had boy a 
 better chance ; but a strange sensation possessed 
 me. I was not frightened, but shook as in ague. 
 I could not aim my rifle, or hold on the broadside 
 of the deer, or even pull the trigger. The last I 
 managed somehow finally to do, and at the crack 
 of the gun the deer looked around to see what 
 was up. I fell to loading again, but was unable 
 for my shaking to bring the powder-horn and 
 charges together. This brought me to my senses 
 and settled my nerves ; but the deer tired of wait- 
 ing, and ran off. 
 
 In a little while there was another opportunity. 
 This time it was a large buck. The fever did not 
 come back. My nerves were steady. I took good 
 aim and fired. The buck fell. I ran with knife 
 in hand to cut his throat ; but when within about 
 twenty feet of him, he raised up his head, snuffed, 
 and shook his big horns defiantly at me. Some 
 blood on his back gave me the idea that the bullet 
 had just creased him, and that he would be up 
 and fight in a minute. Running to a big tree 
 near by, I loaded again and shot him in the head. 
 He was a splendid fellow, and made me forget my 
 disgraceful " buck-fever." 
 
 My father was fond of hunting the deer at 
 night on the water. The deer liked the moss 
 that grew in the water, and was always attracted 
 by a light. Placing a candle in the bow of a 
 canoe, and setting up a screen behind it to con- 
 ceal them, the hunters would paddle noiselessly 
 
YOUTHFUL YEARS. 23 
 
 down the stream until they discovered their game. 
 This was an Indian way of hunting. Father once 
 met Jonathan Alder and his Indian wife known 
 in the early history of Ohio in their bark canoe, 
 engaged in this sport. When I was about four- 
 teen, he took me on such an expedition. We 
 chopped down an elm-tree, made a canoe of its 
 bark, and, just after dark, put out. Father sat in 
 front and I behind, guiding the canoe with a 
 smooth little pole, which I dared not lift out of 
 the water, lest the drops would scare the game. 
 We pushed along that way until we espied a deer. 
 It raised its head ; but the light blinded it, and we 
 poled nearer until we could see it wink, when 
 father shot it. The night, the water, the shadows 
 of the forest, and the breathless stillness of the 
 hunt, gave a certain charm to this mode ; but 
 somehow it never seemed quite so fair for the 
 deer as the other way. 
 
 Scarcely second to hunting was our three- 
 months' winter school. I think we appreciated the 
 advantages, and improved them. But the three 
 months of good times we had together brightened 
 the whole year. Our games were rugged, and our 
 tricks not always the gentlest. One of the latter 
 was to bar out the teacher at Christmas, and dic- 
 tate terms of admission, which usually were two 
 days' vacation, time to be made up by him, and a 
 treat at his expense of a quart or two of whisky. 
 Some of the boys would take too much ; so this 
 treat fell into disrepute, and apples were substituted 
 for it. Barring out, however, was continued until 
 
24 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 about 1825, when some of the parents who 
 opposed it, joined forces with the teachers from 
 New England, who were indignant at what they 
 styled u a Western outrage," and put an end to the 
 practice. 
 
 Spelling-matches between neighboring schools 
 excited great interest. The school on Glade Run 
 and ours once met half-way. Bach side put up 
 its picked ten. We were gaining rapidly, when 
 the man who gave out the words was caught 
 cheating us. This raised quite a disturbance ; but 
 we chose a man who lived on their side, in whose 
 honesty we had confidence, and the contest went 
 on, our side winning and my brother Robert bear- 
 ing off the honors. 
 
 Our course of study included " the three R's " 
 and orthography. One of my teachers, Edwin 
 Cone, I recall with great pleasure. He was a 
 good man, and inspired his scholars to do good 
 work. When about eighteen, I was sent thirty 
 miles to Marysville, Union County, in " the Big 
 Woods," to study mathematics with a Mr. Phelps, 
 the county surveyor. In the four months I was 
 with him, I went as a hand occasionally, and thus 
 secured practice as well as theory. This was of 
 advantage to me in early times in Illinois. 
 
 Two years before this, the first Sunday-school 
 ever held in our place, Georgesville, was organized. 
 The exercises consisted mainly of learning and 
 reciting chapters of the New Testament. Out- 
 side of the large towns, Central Ohio was slow in 
 planting Sunday-schools. 
 
CONVERSION. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CONVERSION AND CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 
 
 IN the month of September, 1830, I attended a 
 camp-meeting near Beech's Woolen Factory, 
 in Madison County, where I joined the Church, 
 and made my first public attempt to seek the sal- 
 vation of my soul. My name was put on the 
 class-book as a seeker on probation. I was fully 
 resolved to seek until I found peace to my soul; 
 but some way I dreaded the class-meeting, and 
 feared it as though it would prove my ruin. But 
 when the leader, Henry Clover, spoke to me with 
 kind words of encouragement, and assured me that 
 no sincere seeker was ever lost, my feelings com- 
 pletely changed. From that moment I have be- 
 lieved the class-meeting to be one of the greatest 
 means of grace in the spiritual economy of our 
 Church. I sought earnestly, embracing every op- 
 portunity to go forward for prayers ; and when the 
 camp-meeting was held again on our circuit, 
 thanks be to God through Christ, I was made a 
 new creature ; my burden was rolled off, and I rested 
 sweetly in my Savior. 
 
 This peace was destined to be of short dura- 
 tion. I was the only young person in my ac- 
 quaintance who was even attempting to be re- 
 ligious. There was to be a social gathering, with 
 "innocent plays." I found I had not given up the 
 
 3 
 
26 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 world. I was riding in the woods after dark, and 
 the tempter pressed his arguments upon me: "No 
 harm could come of it ;" " Some Church-members 
 frequented such resorts and allowed many such 
 things ;" " If I denied and separated myself from all 
 such amusements, I would be a castaway from 
 young society, and the subject of reproach." I con- 
 cluded not to be so particular as to cause perse- 
 cution to be hurled at me ; a middle course would 
 meet the case. Just then the Spirit left me as 
 plainly as it came when I promised to forsake all 
 sin and live for God and his cause. My hair 
 seemed to rise, and I felt to see if my hat was not 
 going off my head. Darkness pervaded my mind, 
 and I repented of my wickedness and struggled 
 back into the light. But that settled the question 
 of worldly amusements for all time. 
 
 This was the fall of 1831, and I was in my 
 twentieth year. After a long deliberation, my 
 father had concluded to move to the prairies of 
 Illinois. It had been thought that only what 
 could be fenced could be farmed, and that the 
 scarcity of timber would, therefore, limit the cul- 
 tivated land to a small area. Nevertheless, we 
 decided to go at least as far as the Illinois River. 
 We had one large wagon, of the kind called later 
 "prairie schooners," with four horses which, as 
 being the eldest of the eight children, I drove 
 and one two-horse wagon, both well-stocked with 
 camp equipage, provisions, utensils, etc. 
 
 On the 6th of October we started on the jour- 
 ney. We went to the west line of Ohio ; thence to 
 
CONVERSION. 27 
 
 Greenville, White River, near Strawtown, Ind. ; 
 through "the Wilderness" and Wabash Prairies, 
 to Danville ; across a branch of the Grand Prairie 
 to Bloomington, 111., then a hamlet of about twenty- 
 five houses ; reached Pekin, November 6th, just 
 one month out, where I saw my first steamboat; 
 thence crossed over to the neighborhood of Can- 
 ton, Fulton County, and settled near where Fair- 
 view now stands. 
 
 The journey was uneventful. The summer 
 had been unusually wet, and the roads were very 
 muddy. It was not uncommon to spend a week 
 in going forty-five miles. The Wilderness was a 
 flat beech-forest, forty miles with but one house, 
 and no bottom to the roads; that is, it was mud 
 down as far as we knew. Teams, with families 
 camped, looked like a small camp-meeting. One 
 evening, after supper, I strolled out among the 
 groups of men around their camp-fires. The 
 general topic of conversation was the depth of 
 mud, each claiming that he had seen the worst. 
 But one fellow said : U A11 that you have seen is noth- 
 ing. I was looking ahead, and saw a plug hat on 
 the mud, and thought I had a prize. As I got 
 nearer, it seemed to have a man's head in it, which 
 said, 'Let me alone, I have a good horse under 
 me!" ! That closed the conversation on that sub- 
 ject. I do not remember any bridges, but plenty 
 of poles everywhere to pry out with. The sloughs 
 on the Wabash Prairie were almost as bad as the 
 Wilderness. 
 
 We spent the winter in looking over the coun- 
 
28 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 try, with the view to a permanent location. In 
 those before-railroad days, the great object was to 
 settle on a navigable stream. We purposed set- 
 tling on the Illinois or the Mississippi. Accord- 
 ingly, a Mr. Day, my father, and myself, set out, 
 about January i, 1832, to examine the country up 
 along the Mississippi. It was an almost unbroken 
 wilderness. We passed Swartz's Grove, near where 
 Abingdon now stands. In Monmouth there was 
 only one house, occupied by a Mr. McNeal, the 
 recorder of Warren County. Thence we went to Kl- 
 lison Grove, Mr. Jarvis's, and stayed at Mr. Wells's. 
 The next day we visited Pence's Fort. Mr. Pence 
 and his family I shall not forget. My father 
 would have bought his farm, but the title was un- 
 certain, as the land was military. 
 
 We dared not cross our horses over Henderson 
 River on the ice, as a January thaw had set in, and 
 we feared the ice would go out. So we left them, 
 and walked up the Mississippi to the Upper Yellow 
 Banks, where New Boston was built. We found 
 three houses in Mercer County, two of them con- 
 tending for the above town-site. Two young mar- 
 ried couples had moved out just before to a point 
 eight miles east of the river, said to be a good 
 place for a settlement. We walked out there. 
 Meantime it had snowed about eight inches, and 
 turned desperately cold. The newly married men 
 had cut hay and hauled some logs for their house 
 before they took their wives up, in the time of the 
 thaw. They had raised their house up one story, 
 cut out a place for the chimney, built a fire, and 
 
CONVERSION. 29 
 
 made clapboards as fast as they could, putting 
 poles across inside. The roof was made of four 
 courses of three-feet clapboards. On each side of 
 the fire-place was what we called a Jackson bed- 
 stead, made of hickory poles, which answered a 
 good purpose and was fashionable in those days. 
 A blanket served for a door. It was stormy, and 
 we asked to stay. They said : " You see we are 
 caught in the storm just as you are; but we will do 
 the best we can for you." They made us a bed on 
 the ground-floor. After we had got into a sound 
 sleep, one of the oxen pushed away the blanket, 
 walked in and put his nose on my father's face, 
 which aroused him. He threw up his hands, and 
 the ox threw up his horns against the clapboard 
 roof, which we thought was all coming down on us. 
 But nobody was hurt, and after driving out the ox 
 and securing the door with a pole, we managed to 
 get some rest and sleep, notwithstanding the night 
 was severely cold. 
 
 In the morning we had for breakfast fried pork, 
 corn-bread, potatoes, and coffee made out of burnt 
 corn-bread. Before night we longed for more of it, 
 for we traveled all day till after dark without a bite 
 to eat. We held a council of war that morning, 
 and decided that we would make for Pence's Fork 
 by the old lead-mine road, rather than go back the 
 way we came. I have thought it was thirty miles 
 through the grass and eight inches of snow. But 
 there was no house this side, and we determined to 
 go through. My father had been afflicted with sci- 
 atic rheumatism in one limb ; and after tramping 
 
30 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 about eight miles, he began to suffer and to fall be- 
 hind, Mr. Day pushing on, and I about half-way 
 between them, with feelings which, though fresh, I 
 have no words to express. 
 
 We reached Pope River, and stopped to rest a 
 little. We had no means of building a fire, or we 
 would have stayed there. The frost was flying, 
 with a hard west wind. Father was compelled to 
 rest a little, and said : " You and Day go on, and you 
 get a horse and meet me." All I said to him was, 
 to keep in the road, which could be seen on the 
 bottom, the grass being tall on either side. It was 
 quite late in the afternoon, and a hard snowy road 
 twelve miles or more. Mr. Day and I started side 
 by side. It was for life, as I hardly expected to see 
 my father alive again. Before we got half-way, 
 Mr. Day proposed to slacken his pace and let me 
 go on. I reached the fort at dusk, and young Mr. 
 Pence saddled a horse and was off on a lope as 
 quick as possible. I could not have gone, as I was 
 all overdone, sweating, shivering with the cold; 
 but my anxiety was not abated until I saw my 
 father. He was met about five miles back. He 
 said that after we left he felt a little rested, and 
 walked on and felt better, but was so cold that he 
 grew sleepy ; and when he got on the horse he had 
 to hold to the mane to keep from falling. Mr. 
 Day only got in a short time before him. Father 
 was shaking with cold, so that we had to help him 
 off. Mrs-. Pence brought him a good cup of coffee ; 
 but he shook so with cold and fatigue that it had 
 to be put to his mouth. He was soon warmed, 
 
CONVERSION. 31 
 
 and found that he was not frozen, except that his 
 nose and one cheek were frost-bitten. I had never 
 been so tired and cold before, never had such a 
 burden rolled off, and never experienced such 
 thankfulness. 
 
 That was one of the hardest day's travel I ever 
 have had, and I feel yet that it was through the 
 goodness of God that I was enabled to endure it. 
 We rested a day or two, and returned home, and 
 settled as above stated. 
 
 In the spring of 1832 the renowned Black 
 Hawk war broke out, about the time grass was so 
 that stock could live on it. Almost all the young 
 men, and some of the old ones, volunteered as 
 rangers to fight Indians. I was anxious to go, but 
 we were new-comers, and much depended on rais- 
 ing a crop. Rails were to be made and hauled, and 
 my father thought he could spare neither a man nor 
 a horse ; but promised that, as soon as we could get 
 the spring work done, I could go. He thought 
 there was not much danger, and staid all alone on 
 his place. There was not a man within six miles 
 who did not leave at times. He said that when 
 we saw a man running, and crying, and saying the 
 Indians had killed all but him, then it would be 
 time enough to run. 
 
 Some time in June, Major Foster, a recruiting 
 officer, with a number of men that had come in 
 on furlough, was to start up to Gum's Fort, on the 
 waters of Henderson River. I took gun and ammu- 
 nition, and a good horse, and joined them at Canton. 
 
 About a dozen men of us set out for the seat 
 
32 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of war. Mr. Westerfield, a man of good repute, 
 came an hour behind, 'and concluded to overtake 
 us, but had only ridden about one mile north of 
 Canton, near the house of Captain Barnes, when 
 he heard a man, who afterwards proved to be 
 one familiarly known as Father Thurman, chasing 
 a coyote wolf with his horse and dogs, hallooing 
 at the top of his voice every jump. Mr. Wester- 
 field heard it, but could not see for a skirt of 
 timber; and as big Indian was on his mind, he 
 turned his horse back for town, and cried at the 
 top of his voice, "The Indians are killing Barnes's 
 family!" and everybody believed it. In a few 
 minutes a fort was commenced, and word sent to 
 every family near but Mr. Barnes. Of course 
 every body ran to Canton. Creeks were out of 
 their banks. One horse was drowned, and some 
 members of families that were in delicate health 
 were injured. 
 
 It is strange how scared men will act. The 
 first man Mr. Westerfield met was a Mr. Coleman, 
 who had a store and horse-mill, a lame boy attend- 
 ing the mill, just across the road. He did not even 
 call his boy; turned the key on his store, mounted 
 a horse which a customer had hitched to the rack, 
 put his plug hat under him, as there was no 
 saddle, and galloped down the road with Wester- 
 field, crying the alarm. About three miles down 
 the road they met a Mr. F , who, on hear- 
 ing the news, was so scared, that he ran into his 
 house, took what change he had, left his wife and 
 family, and never stopped until he got to Ross's 
 
CONVERSION. 33 
 
 Ferry, on the Illinois River, and actually rode into 
 the river to meet the ferry-boat, such was his 
 fright. 
 
 It is plain to be seen that men ought to know 
 the facts before they give any alarm at a time of 
 excitement. As my father and family lived eight 
 miles out, and Barnes's place was on the road, 
 they heard nothing of it till they heard both sides 
 at once, and kept quietly at their work. I was 
 out fifteen or twenty days, saw the rangers and 
 country, was well persuaded that the Indians 
 would rather be west of the Mississippi River, and 
 concluded not to volunteer, but returned to hear, 
 of Westerfield's defeat, as it was called. 
 
 Several times during the summer it was re- 
 ported that Indians were within a few miles of 
 us. I will mention one more scene. There was 
 what was called Babbit's Settlement, north-west of 
 Canton some twenty-five miles. Five or six 
 families had quietly stuck to their farms. One of 
 their number, a Mr. Cox, went out to hunt a two- 
 year-old colt that was not bridle-wise, and got 
 back with it just at dusk. In his absence, two or 
 three soldiers on a furlough from the army, called 
 to stay over night. As he came near the house, 
 he heard strange voices, and at once thought it 
 was Indians, and was sure they had killed his wife 
 and children. In his grief and alarm he struck 
 out for Canton on the colt, crying, supposing his 
 wife and children were brutally murdered. About 
 half-way, with a man he had met, he passed Mr. 
 Zebulon Foster's, waked them up, and told them 
 
34 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 that the Indians had killed his family. When 
 asked for particulars, they swore it was true, and 
 started at half speed. Well, the family got up a 
 yoke of oxen, notified a widow and family, and 
 started the same way at midnight. Mr. Cox 
 alarmed the people with his cries and tears as far 
 as he could, and by nine o'clock they had sixty 
 men with arms to go out to war. In the mean- 
 time, after she had given the soldiers the inno- 
 cent cause of all this alarm their supper, Mrs. 
 Cox became very uneasy, fearing that her husband 
 had been thrown from his colt and killed or crip- 
 pled. She induced her guests to go in search of 
 him in the night. They soon got tired and rode 
 on to Canton, and hearing of Mr. Cox's trouble, 
 found him and told him that his wife was very 
 uneasy about him, and that he had better go 
 home. This was the end of another Indian scare. 
 As the road was three miles from our place, 
 my father fortunately did not see the man, or 
 he, too, would have been constrained to flee for 
 safety. 
 
 This was a summer of almost constant excite- 
 ment. Black Hawk and his band were whipped, 
 and fifty miles of territory ceded to the United 
 States on the west side of the Mississippi River, 
 all that was then thought we should ever want. 
 
 Illinois having proved to be wonderfully rich 
 in soil and natural advantages, about this time 
 experienced a great influx of population and a 
 wonderful rise in property. 
 
 We read in the papers of the first railroad in 
 
CONVERSION. 35 
 
 New York. I asked my father what he thought 
 of such a project flat iron rails for steam-cars. 
 He thought a moment, and said it might pay be- 
 tween large cities, but the expense would be too 
 great to build through the country. The old gen- 
 tleman lived to ride on such a road from Illinois 
 to the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 From 1834 to the spring of 1837, times were 
 good, and speculation ran high. But the awful 
 crash financially, in 1837, broke up thousands. 
 Only men that had a surplus of money and were 
 out of debt, stood the shock. No money could be 
 had on credit for less than twelve per cent, and 
 property and produce were not worth anything to 
 speak of. I hauled one load of good wheat thirty- 
 five miles to Peoria, and could get only twenty-five 
 cents a bushel. Pork was sold from $1.25 to $1.50 
 a hundred pounds. The farmer had to run all 
 over a village to sell a few pounds of butter at 
 six cents a pound, and take it in calico. Bggs 
 were three cents a dozen. 
 
 Everything but the Churches stood still. The 
 Methodist Church was far in the lead. We had 
 valiant men that led the hosts of Israel Peter 
 Cartwright, Peter Akers, John Sinclair, Henry Sum- 
 mers, the Hobarts, the Haneys, Wilson Pitner, 
 Peter R. Borein, John Morey, and a host of 
 others. 
 
 There was no regular circuit preaching in the 
 northern part of Fulton County, Illinois, till the 
 fall of 1832. Then the Rev. Peter R. Borein came 
 to us in the spirit of his Master. It was his first 
 
36 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 circuit. He acquitted himself well, and was 
 known only to be loved and respected. Just before 
 his arrival, Brother Carter, who was a kind of mis- 
 sionary among us, held a camp-meeting at Canton. 
 I suppose the ground is all covered with buildings 
 now. He was assisted, I think, by Rev. A. D. 
 West, a located preacher, Brothers Jordan and 
 Joel Arrington, all of precious memory. Attend- 
 ance was large, and much good was done. 
 
 I had been under a heavy cloud for a year, al- 
 though I had often walked five miles to class- 
 meeting, and always took part in the prayer- 
 meetings when asked to do so. I resolved at this 
 meeting to have the cloud of darkness raised, and 
 to seek and look for all that God had in store for 
 me through Christ's all-cleansing blood. Hard 
 was the struggle, and not until Monday morning 
 at the altar, almost in despair, I looked away from 
 self and all but Christ and him crucified. Just 
 then I was enabled to receive the blessing at his 
 hand; was taken from the mire of sin and unbe- 
 lief; a new song was put in my mouth, and I 
 made no apology for shouting, " Glory! glory !" 
 for a full salvation to my soul! I started for a 
 local preacher; but he escaped me. He told me 
 afterwards he was too cold to meet one so bap- 
 tized by the Holy Ghost. I believe the whole 
 work was done at one blast, as I never could 
 question the fact that God could justify and sanc- 
 tify at the same time ; and I believe it is often 
 done. 
 
 But I soon came down from the mount of trans- 
 
CONVERSION. 37 
 
 figuration, and was confronted with one of the most 
 fearful temptations of my life. I was cutting house- 
 logs, my brother hauling them. I could more 
 than keep him going, and improved my spare 
 moments reading my Bible. I opened at Job, and 
 read the book through. The thought of his trials, 
 and that mine should be like them, brought great 
 distress upon me. I looked backward and forward 
 over life, and feared I should not be able to endure 
 the test. All at once the thought came: "I am 
 fully prepared, and it would be better to die now, 
 and go to the land of the blessed and sing the songs 
 of heaven forever." And knowing no other way 
 to get off honorably, I set in to pray: "O God, if 
 it can be, consistently with thy will, take me speed- 
 ily to thyself, while I feel thou art mine and I am 
 thine." For a time my prayer was a constant en- 
 treaty to him, until it became an agony. I often 
 thought of the Apostle Paul's three prayers for God 
 to take the thorn out of his flesh. His faith and 
 zeal moved his Lord to give an answer, and stopped 
 his intercession. So in my case, God put an end 
 to my prayers for death. While kneeling at the 
 root of a tree, far from any one but God and the 
 supplicant, while in an agony, wrestling like Jacob 
 of old, with the desire to get away from the trials 
 of earth to an eternal home, just behind me I heard 
 a voice, saying: "Your work is not done; go ye 
 into all the world and preach the gospel." The 
 boy, seeking to be liberated by death, instantly 
 turned around to see who was there ; for it seemed 
 impossible that any one should be near. Suffice it 
 
38 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 to say, it turned the seeker's mind to meditation on 
 a subject to which he had never given a serious 
 moment of reflection before ; and never again did 
 he try to bring death by prayer. 
 
 Soon after this I was prevailed upon to take a 
 class, by my pastor, Rev. Peter R. Borein, although 
 it seemed to be a great undertaking. I tried to 
 live a Christian life, and thought much on the sub- 
 ject of the ministry. I had an overwhelming sense 
 of my inability, arising from my lack of educa- 
 tional advantages ; and had often said that I would 
 rather be anything than a poor Methodist preacher. 
 Soon after this I was licensed as an exhorter, my 
 license being written by Peter Cartwright. This 
 was the first step toward preaching. I was also 
 one of the circuit stewards. Our members, and the 
 people generally, were at fault as to pastoral sup- 
 port, and I used to stir up their minds on that 
 subject. 
 
 We came to the third quarterly meeting. Revs. 
 N. G. Berryman and Rufus Lumery were on the 
 Canton Circuit, with Rev. Henry Summers presid- 
 ing elder. The quarterly conference was composed 
 of nearly forty members. The claims of our 
 preachers were hardly half paid, the presiding elder 
 in the same condition. As there was no mission- 
 ary money for him, and he had to take his pay in 
 proportion with the preachers, he had the unpleas- 
 ant task of holding up the claims of needy preach- 
 ers on each occasion. On the present occasion we 
 were brought to a stand. In our history no preacher 
 had received all of his scanty allowance. Hard 
 
CONVERSION. 39 
 
 times were pleaded as an excuse. The writer made 
 his first breeze in quarterly conference by moving 
 a resolution that a bill be made out against each 
 class, according to their numbers and ability, and 
 that each leader collect it or pay it, and for once 
 pay our preachers in full. We had a mighty stir ; 
 but all except one leader agreed to try, and on the 
 fourth quarter we met the claims. I had to put up 
 ten dollars out of my own cash. 
 
 In our early settlement, the people were thrown 
 together from all quarters of our country. We be- 
 came acquainted with Zebulon Foster and family, 
 who had been among the first settlers of Fort 
 Washington, now Cincinnati, Ohio; and our ac- 
 quaintance resulted in my marriage with Miss 
 Harriet Foster, his youngest daughter; and his 
 youngest son, Harvey Foster, to my oldest sister. 
 We were married by Rev. H. Summers on the 4th 
 of December, in the year of our Lord 1833. I, 
 of course, felt that the best of the bargain was on 
 my side, and, in fact, have never had reason to 
 change my mind. She was of a sweet disposition, 
 a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and 
 walked worthy of her profession. Our marriage 
 resulted in five children three boys and two girls. 
 
 In 1844 I took my family to Wisconsin, and 
 settled in Potosi, where, on July 14, 1847, my wife 
 died in full assurance of hope; and where I 
 buried by her side, two months later, our youngest 
 daughter, a babe of thirteen months. Our other 
 children reached maturity. My wife's death almost 
 crushed my spirits. In addition to this, I was 
 
40 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 financially broken up, and had nothing but my 
 hands to depend upon. I was working lead-mines, 
 or rather, prospecting. My misfortunes, however, 
 were only temporal. I had faith in God's 
 goodness and promises, and did not think for a 
 moment but that the Giver of all good gifts would 
 help in the hour of distress. 
 
 Very soon I struck a streak of mineral, which 
 brought several hundred dollars, and greatly helped 
 me financially ; and, indeed, we never were with- 
 out the real necessities of life. My loneliness drove 
 me to thoughts of marriage. There was a widow 
 about my age near by. I proposed marriage, and 
 was accepted. It transpired that she had been 
 twice married before the last man dead, the first 
 one still living, and that they had never been 
 divorced. I was not informed of the facts in the 
 case. Of course matters came to light. Our 
 union was not congenial before, and when the 
 situation was understood, I felt it wrong to live in 
 that relation. I expected a separation, and in 
 nine months obtained a divorce in Lancaster, 
 Grant County, Wisconsin. But I have never for- 
 given myself. My marriage was too hasty. I did 
 not give myself time carefully and prayerfully to 
 ponder my steps. I would say here that the 
 divorce was not got in order to marry again. I 
 felt that I had disgraced myself with my family 
 and friends, and was brought very low in spirits. 
 Our preacher, Rev. F. Smith, of Wisconsin Con- 
 ference, came around, and I told him to take up 
 the case, and have a committee of Church members 
 
CONVERSION. 41 
 
 to investigate the matter as I was class- 
 leader so that the Church might be relieved as 
 far as possible. He did so, and they acquitted 
 me. Although I suffered severely, I found no 
 place for repentance for my great mistake. Sor- 
 row was upon me such as I never felt before. I 
 was humiliated in life and in the sight of God. 
 
 .Soon after this, we left Potosi, and went to 
 Lost Grove, near Mineral Point, as I was still 
 prospecting in the lead-mines. I took my Church 
 letter as an exhorter. Rev. Henry Summers, pre- 
 siding elder, was an old friend, and helped me, as 
 I was a stranger. Soon the way opened for me 
 to exercise my gifts as an exhorter in my own 
 neighborhood and in other places, and the breth- 
 ren gave me license as a local preacher, notwith- 
 standing I objected. I thought I was as far 
 along as I ought to go, but was overruled. I 
 feared they had almost spoiled an exhorter. This 
 was in 1849. Here I was enabled to make enough 
 to rise out of all my financial difficulties. My 
 sister Rachel kept house for us, and, as a family, 
 we were all at home, with my brother Robert, 
 as we were in company mining, and were as com- 
 fortable and happy as we could be under the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 In the fall we moved to Mineral Point, so that 
 my poor children could have the benefit of a good 
 school. We carried on our work in the mines, 
 and frequently tried to preach. 
 
 This year, Rev. J. M. Snow was on the Mineral 
 Point charge, and he had a plan that embraced 
 
 4 
 
42 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 all the local preachers, and by which, every four 
 weeks, I was to preach in the old stone Church 
 in his presence. My first attempt I well remem- 
 ber. All the week I could not get my mind on 
 any subject. The time came, and the attempt 
 must be made. After the preliminaries, I an- 
 nounced the text. Suddenly I became so blind 
 that I could scarcely see or utter a word. After 
 trying for some minutes, I said, " Brother Snow, 
 you must preach." But he said, "Go on," and I 
 tried again; but soon said, "I will quit," and sat 
 down. As I retired, I saw that everybody's eyes 
 were straining at me. You may believe that the 
 preacher felt as if he could have crawled out at 
 an auger-hole, if there had been any. Brother 
 Snow talked a little, and dismissed. As the people 
 left, it was discovered that three or four penitents 
 were weeping, and not willing to leave without 
 prayers. We continued with them till they were 
 all converted. Then the preacher in charge said 
 he had been blessed, and was looking for a re- 
 vival. Then the Sunday-school superintendent 
 got up, and said that he had been praying, and 
 that his prayers had been answered. Then Brother 
 Dyer got up, and said he felt like a poor boy at a 
 frolic he had not a word to say. 
 
 But be it said, to the glory of God, that the 
 meetings were continued, and there were more 
 than forty souls set at liberty. The series of 
 meetings which was to have begun in two weeks, 
 started that night. It was a good work, and my^ 
 own family shared largely in the blessings that 
 
CONVERSION. 43 
 
 God showered upon us. They called it my break- 
 down. Although I failed often, I never so entirely 
 failed as at that time. It was a great trial. The 
 next Sunday evening, in the same place, three 
 hundred crowded the house. When I announced 
 the text, I looked up, and every eye was on the 
 preacher. He said : "I suppose you all remember 
 last Sunday night's failure ; but I am not convinced 
 that there is no preach in me yet." This brought 
 a smile to many a face, and we set out with un- 
 usual liberty. 
 
 Soon after * this, Rev. E. Yocum, presiding 
 elder, called on me to go as a supply to one of his 
 circuits; but under the circumstances, I declined, 
 and my brother Thomas and I started to Yellow 
 Stone to our mines, with a good buggy animal; 
 but she became frightened, and kicked all about 
 our heads, and tore almost everything to pieces. 
 It looked like a providence that one or both of us 
 were not killed; but neither of us was hurt. 
 
 I had been gloomy all day, and after the above 
 escape, felt worse, and slept but little through the 
 night. Next day I was with a hired man, helping 
 to sink a prospect shaft. I was in the ground 
 about thirty feet, but was exceedingly sad, and 
 grew worse, until I had no power to work. My 
 feelings were awful. Panting for breath, I sat 
 down in the shaft, and said: "O Lord, what ails 
 me?" Just then a hundred promises which I had 
 made, that if ever the way opened I would go and 
 preach the gospel, rushed to mind ; and now, 
 though the way was open, I had refused. Two 
 
44 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 things were in the way. The first was that di- 
 vorced woman, and the belief that, if I went, the 
 cause would be injured and myself disgraced. 
 Then came this text: "If you eat any deadly 
 thing, it shall not hurt you." The other was the 
 fact that I had one son at Lawrence University, 
 and wanted to educate the other children, and my 
 prospects were fair to do so. Then came the words : 
 " Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, 
 or sisters, or father, or mother, or children, for my 
 name's sake, shall receive a hundred-fold, and shall 
 inherit everlasting life." The response was: If 
 deadly poison will not kill, I will leave the children 
 to God's care, and go. The best of the bargain on 
 my side eternal life. 
 
 It was now all settled. I put pick and shovel 
 into the tub, stepped in, and said, " Hoist," and my 
 man took me up out of the pit. He asked me 
 what it meant. I told him I was going to quit 
 work for awhile. When we got to the cabin for 
 dinner, I said to my brother Robert: "I am going 
 to try to preach the gospel." He said, after a mo- 
 ment's reflection, quoting Davy Crockett: " Be sure 
 you 're right, then go ahead ; " and go I did, and re- 
 ported myself to the presiding elder. He sent me 
 a note with directions where to meet him, and in- 
 structions to help Rev. A. H. Walter on the Wing- 
 ville and Lancaster work; altogether a different 
 direction from where I was first asked to go. This 
 suited me better. The work went within seven 
 miles of where I had lived, and Lancaster was 
 where the divorce was granted. The reader may 
 
CONVERSION. 45 
 
 guess how any one would feel, six months after, 
 to be in the court-house well-filled with people, as 
 there were no church buildings in the place. The 
 writer relied on the promise poison will not kill 
 you and suffice it to say, we had a good meeting. 
 The people seemed well pleased to see me, and I 
 thanked God and took courage. 
 
 When I went on that work with Brother Walter, 
 it was four months till conference. In that time 
 we received over one hundred into the Church, most 
 of them happily converted. Brother Walter was 
 quite a revivalist. The head of Platte, in Clifton's 
 settlement, and Fenimore were the best works. 
 We began a meeting at Franklin, a mining town. 
 After a week's time, some difficulties arose in the 
 place, and Brother Walter said we had better quit ; 
 but I was to stay another day. The school-house 
 had been crowded, and a certain young man took a 
 chair to have a seat. A rowdy fellow said: " What 
 are you going to do with your chair?" He re- 
 plied: " I am going to the mourner's bench." He 
 answered : " I will bet you a quarter." Jim as read- 
 ily replied: "I will stand you;" and they put up 
 the money. Sure enough, when the call was made, 
 up he came with others; but we were none the 
 wiser of his object. The next day the saloon- 
 keepers had their fun. A friend told me of the sit- 
 uation. We had the appointment given out for the 
 evening, and I was prepared as well as possible, 
 and did not think he could hurt me while I was in 
 the line of duty. When the time came to call 
 seekers, I spoke of the meanness of any man that 
 
46 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 would come on the bet of a quarter ; such a crea- 
 ture would sell his soul for a sixpence, spend it for 
 whisky, and go to the devil at last. But several 
 came, and the same fellow came again, of course, 
 for he had money at stake. I said : " Sing a verse." 
 At the close, the preacher stepped up to Jim, 
 slipped -his hand in his collar, and said : " You came 
 here last night on the bet of a quarter." He re- 
 plied: "But I did not spend it for whisky." 
 " Well," said the preacher, " I believe that is your 
 business," and pulled him up, and said: "You put 
 for the door, or I will put you out at the window." 
 The fellow said: "You asked' me here for prayers, 
 and I want you to pray for me." The preacher 
 said: "You must pray for yourself." "I can't 
 pray." "But you must, I will teach you; say, God 
 have mercy on me, a sinner." By a little squeez- 
 ing of his neck, he was induced to say the prayer, 
 but spoke very low. He was asked to pray louder, 
 and said his prayer so that all in the house could 
 hear. He did not cease till we closed. 
 
 The house was crowded ; but while the above 
 scene was passing, you might have heard a pin 
 drop. That fellow never troubled us again, and a 
 talk was given on the principle of such a course. 
 The man who bet with him, came and apologized 
 to the preacher, and promised to do so no more. 
 Some good was done. The writer was pastor a 
 year after that, and never again was intruded upon 
 by rowdies. This was the spring of 1851. After 
 about four months as a supply, the quarterly con- 
 ference proposed to recommend me as a suitable 
 
CONVERSION. 47 
 
 person for the traveling connection. On account 
 of my age and the circumstances that surrounded 
 me, I felt quite safe in the thought that the con- 
 ference would not take me. Their decision I would 
 accept as settling the whole question. I had but 
 one request to make the presiding elder not for 
 a good appointment but, if I was received, not 
 to send me away from where I was acquainted. 
 But, to my surprise, I was admitted into the Wis- 
 consin Conference and appointed to Elk Grove 
 Circuit, a part of it in the same county, Platte- 
 ville District my old friend, Blmore Yocum, pre- 
 siding elder. 
 
4# SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 
 
 I WAS the first admitted of the class of twenty- 
 three, in the year 1851, at Waukesha, and I 
 thought it would have been more appropriate for 
 me to have been at the other end. The next Sab- 
 bath I was on my work. Found about ninety 
 members and probationers. Brother Samuel Leon- 
 ard had preceded me. We had eight appointments 
 on the two weeks' circuit, three on each Sunday, 
 all kept up. We had three good revivals, not by 
 might nor by power, but by the Spirit of God. 
 During the year we doubled our numbers with con- 
 verts. We had one camp-meeting, which I shall 
 not forget. E. Yocum, A. Brunson, and Brother 
 Fraser, a good local preacher, did most of the 
 preaching. 
 
 During the progress of the meeting we had 
 some rain; but at Potosi, where my divorced 
 woman lived, a cloud burst at the head of Snake 
 Hollow, causing a flood to do much damage. 
 She, being alone, was alarmed; ran to a near 
 neighbor's, and it was thought that, on her return, 
 some drift-wood caught her; for in the morning 
 she was found in a drift, one-quarter of a mile be- 
 low. Poor, unfortunate woman! if she had re- 
 mained in her house, the sad occurrence would not 
 have happened. She was the only one drowned. 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 49 
 
 This was a year of hard work ; but it paid well 
 spiritually, both for myself and the Church. I had 
 many good friends ; but as I was well known, and 
 had some interest in the mines, they thought the 
 preacher was rich. I received a single man's 
 quarterage one hundred dollars with four chil- 
 dren and sister Rachel to provide for; about 
 half enough to keep us. Elias, my second son, 
 was taken with white - swelling, which made 
 him a cripple for life. Doctor's bills and all, 
 three hundred dollars to square accounts it took 
 for the year, over and above all I got on the 
 charge. 
 
 Our Conference this year was held at Fond du lac. 
 I passed the first year's study, and was continued 
 on trial, and appointed to Franklin and Wingville 
 Circuit, where I had been a supply, to help Brother 
 A. H. Walter. Found good friends there, who had 
 borne with me two years before. Among others, 
 there was an old Brother Lincoln. He would 
 shout at meeting or at work. Rev. S. C. 
 Thomas, presiding elder, came to the charge to 
 hold quarterly meeting. Brother Lincoln would 
 say, "Glory!" as the service went on. The new 
 presiding elder stopped, and said : "If that brother 
 can refrain from shouting, I would be glad; but 
 if he can 't, let him shout." The brother said, 
 " Glory to God for the privilege of shouting;" and 
 of course he made use of his privilege. He 
 was a good blacksmith, and every time he laid 
 down the hammer he would say, "Glory!" On 
 one occasion, a man brought a bad horse to be 
 
 5 
 
50 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 shod. The horse had been tried and given up. 
 He swore he would take him to old Lincoln. 
 Lincoln knew nothing of the horse's wickedness, 
 took hold of his foot, and was thrown a somer- 
 sault on some old irons in the corner of his shop. 
 He jumped up, clapped his hands, and said, " Glory 
 to God! he didn't hurt me a bit!" and took up 
 the horse's foot, and shod him. The wicked man 
 said Lincoln had a right to shout as much as he 
 pleased. I noticed his obituary; his last word 
 was a shout of " Glory!" 
 
 Brother Henry Wood preceded me here, a 
 conference classmate, a good man and true. He 
 has since passed to his reward. 
 
 We had revivals at several points on this cir- 
 cuit ; the largest at Newman's Mills, in a stone 
 school-house. After it was over, I remembered a 
 dream I had some time before. In my vision I 
 was fishing, saw quite a school of fish, and had 
 them in close quarters. At first I could not catch 
 any, but finally succeeded in making a large haul. 
 I held meetings for two weeks ; no one would 
 make a start, although the house was crowded 
 every night. I did my very best, but at the end 
 of two weeks I knew not what to do. After we 
 had a few prayers, I concluded to divide the house. 
 The stove was in the middle. I talked a little, 
 and told the singer, Thomas Kirkpatrick, to select 
 a hymn. I then proposed to divide the house ; 
 all that were trying to serve God, and any that 
 would seek the salvation of their souls, to come to 
 the front; and all that were careless and wicked 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 51 
 
 to take the other end. It seemed they were 
 mixed. Both sides started, and they passed each 
 other. It was a solemn scene, a comment on the 
 great day and the final separation, every man 
 taking his place in heaven or hell. I gave out 
 meeting for the next night, and dismissed the con- 
 gregation. God worked meantime, and when the 
 invitation was next given, fifteen came at once, 
 and within a few days over forty. It was what 
 we called a good meeting. Some hard cases were 
 converted and joined the Church. 
 
 We visited an old man and his wife. They 
 had been members long before, but were careless. 
 The man was honest; said he knew when the 
 Spirit left him, and after that had never felt con- 
 cerned for the salvation of his soul ; was alto- 
 gether without feeling on the subject. I asked to 
 pray with them. They had two farms. The man 
 said: "This place belongs to the old lady. I 
 have nothing to say." The old lady said: "You 
 know this is your house as much as it ever was." 
 He said he did not control it; and both cared 
 so little that they would not say they were willing, 
 only: "You can do as you please." I said: "Let 
 us pray." They were quiet, but the old man did 
 not quit smoking his old pipe. I asked them to 
 come to meeting, but neither promised to come. 
 I left them to do as they pleased. 
 
 I saw the fulfillment of my dream. It was 
 very hard to get the work started ; but when the 
 penitents came, it was all at once. We had nearly 
 one hundred conversions on the circuit that year. 
 
52 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Our conference in 1853 was ^ e ^ by Bishop 
 Scott at the town of Baraboo. Quite a pleasant 
 session. All of our class present were admitted. 
 There was a camp-meeting of some interest, held 
 at the time of the conference, a half mile out of 
 town. Chauncey Hobart was to preach the mis- 
 sionary sermon. I fell in with him on the way 
 out, and he was shaking like an aspen-leaf. I 
 asked why he was so nervous, as he was ac- 
 customed to preaching. "O," he said, "it is 
 easier to get a reputation than to keep it." He 
 was a six-footer, and when he began to speak, it 
 seemed to me he twisted down a little ; but began 
 to rise as he proceeded, and before, or at the close, 
 his length was all there, and, in addition, his 
 long arms reaching up toward heaven, having the 
 full attention of the whole camp-meeting, and of 
 the conference in the bargain. He was sick, and 
 not able to leave when the preachers left. I have 
 always thought that it was the overstraining of 
 his nerves and the labor of delivering that sermon 
 that caused his sickness, and detained him for sev- 
 eral days. 
 
 I received my appointment at the above ses- 
 sion to Fayette Circuit, with Brother B. Crist as 
 colleague. It was a large four weeks' circuit. We 
 had a pleasant year working together; enlarged 
 the circuit, had a good revival at Willow Springs, 
 and some interest at other points. Had a good 
 camp-meeting. Rev. S. C. Thomas, our presiding 
 elder, with Brother Haughawout and others, were 
 on the ground. 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 53 
 
 It seemed that we had more than our share of 
 difficulties to settle ; and, in addition, in the winter 
 the small-pox broke out at Centerville in one of 
 our best societies, and two members died. We 
 could have no services for months. Then the 
 cholera broke out in August and September, in 
 different places on the work, and cut off nearly 
 twenty. This cast a gloom and fear over almost 
 all classes of people. At Wiota, all of one 
 family died, and the neighbors got together and 
 burnt the house with the dead bodies in it. This 
 was before the days of cremation, so far as I know, 
 or it would not have looked so horrible. In cases 
 of burial, it seemed that the people thought the 
 bodies could not be interred soon enough after 
 death, and it was doubtful if some were not buried 
 alive. At Fayette, where we lived, three of one 
 family died ; only one little girl was left. 
 
 Brother and Sister Benson, both members of 
 our Church, were called away. The mother was 
 taken first. I visited her. She was in extreme 
 pain, but was resigned to the will of God. In 
 twenty-four hours she died. I was with her to the 
 last. It was warm weather, and at nine o'clock in 
 the evening we sent out for help, as she was a 
 large woman. Only Aunt Polly Journey came. My 
 sister was at home with my sick daughter, and I 
 sent for her. Nathan Woodberry also came, and 
 as the bedroom was too small, we carried the 
 corpse out in front of the house, and laid her out. 
 Two or three had been dispatched to dig the grave. 
 Her husband had sent to have^i coffin, as he feared 
 
54 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 the people would want to bury her without one. 
 But he need not have feared, for scarcely one 
 could be got near the house. Mr. Woodberry got 
 a wagon and team, and we went a half mile for 
 the coffin. It was not quite done. This was 
 Monday night, and I tried to preach three times 
 the day before. I lay down in the, shavings and 
 slept till the coffin was done, when I was awaked 
 and ready for service. About day-break there 
 were just enough of us to perform the burial of 
 the poor woman so suddenly called to death. Just 
 before she breathed her last, the little boy was 
 taken down, and within twenty-four hours he was 
 buried. I was not there, as I had been called to 
 attend a funeral. 
 
 On the next Monday I was sent for, to go ancl 
 see Brother Benson. He was at his brother-in- 
 law's, one and a half miles away, down in the tim- 
 ber, and had the cholera. I carried him some 
 medicine, as the doctor could not go. We worked 
 over him all day till about dark. His brother-in- 
 law and I were the only ones to attend on him. 
 We tried to encourage him, but he seemed to ex- 
 pect to die. He suffered intensely, and about 
 dark breathed his last. His brother-in-law said : 
 "You are older than I; you must stay, and I will 
 go for help." He went to the village, and no one 
 would go ; all prayed to be excused. Sister Nancy 
 Smith, a good and brave woman, said if the men 
 would not go, she would raise some women to go. 
 This stirred two men to go with Woodberry. By 
 the time they got the coffin it was dark. 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 55 
 
 It was a rainy night, with thunder rumbling. 
 I was left to myself, and laid him out as best I 
 could ; wrapped Ijim in a sheet, and sat down on the 
 opposite side of the room, musing all alone. Just 
 then he began to move his hands and one foot. 
 I went to him and spoke to him, but he was dead ; 
 the cramp worked on his nerves. He moved one 
 hand up to his shoulder, and the other downward; 
 raised one knee six inches. His limbs could not 
 be moved any more. All the light we had was a 
 little old tin lamp hog's-lard for oil and that 
 almost gone. I could find no more about the 
 house, and the light was not larger than a man's 
 finger-nail. As it was after midnight, I looked up 
 toward the road. It was raining, but presently I 
 saw a light coming, and sat down to see how they 
 would proceed, when they drove up to the door, 
 which was open. One of them said: "I guess 
 Brother Dyer is gone." I stepped to the door, and 
 spoke. They seemed much relieved, came in, and 
 asked me what we had better do. There were 
 men digging the grave. I told them I did not 
 wish to bury him so soon, nor in the night. He 
 had been moving since we thought him gone. We 
 put the corpse into the coffin, and laid the cover 
 over all but his face ; then we went home and slept. 
 In the morning I took my horse and buggy, and 
 asked several to go with me, but without success. 
 At last we met Brother Horace Woodworth, a 
 Free-will Baptist preacher, and he did not refuse. 
 He and Brother John Ethridge, and Brother John 
 Roberts, took the corpse in their wagon, and 
 
56 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 buried it in daytime beside his wife and child, 
 assured that they were safely landed together in 
 the heavenly home, to die no more. 
 
 I would say just here, that I had always been 
 afraid of the cholera till it came where I was ; but 
 then I could discharge any duty that I was called 
 to perform without any fear whatever. On the 
 night referred to above, the man that was with 
 me took asafetida about as thick as cream every 
 little bit, and offered it to me; but I told him I 
 dreaded it as much as the cholera. I felt, and 
 still feel, great thankfulness to God for his sus- 
 taining grace. 
 
 During this year we had three appointments 
 for each Sunday. I was called on to preach at a 
 funeral on Sunday morning. It was not in the 
 direction of either of the services. The messen- 
 ger said they wanted it early. I told him if they 
 could meet me at their school-house at nine 
 o'clock, I would be there. This would enable me 
 to get to my appointment at Fayette at eleven, a 
 six miles' ride. They were all on hand, and we 
 were not long preaching the child, through the 
 great atonement of our Lord Jesus Christ, to eter- 
 nal rest, and in giving the parents and weeping 
 friends a warm exhortation to be sure to meet it 
 in heaven. At half-past two o'clock I preached 
 at Vanmeter's, and at half-past five at Yellow- 
 stone, near Brother G. Hall's. I went home with 
 Brother Robert and family for the night, and we 
 all slept so soundly that a thief got in through 
 the kitchen window, and stole brother's gold watch 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 57 
 
 and chain, a few dollars in change, about sixty 
 dollars' worth of silver- ware, and, to cap the whole, 
 took my boots, the finest pair I ever had made 
 French calf-skin. I could get nothing to wear 
 home but a pair of buckskin moccasins. We 
 closed up the year satisfactorily to the most of our 
 leading members, and considerably enlarged our 
 circuit. 
 
 Our conference was held this year, 1854, at 
 Janesville. Bishop Morris presided. We had a 
 pleasant time. The old Fayette Circuit was di- 
 vided, and the southern part formed into the Wiota 
 or State Line Mission. I was appointed there, and 
 lived at Wiota. The circuit extended down the 
 Picatonica River some ten miles. 
 
 About the first of the year my horse got away, 
 and I was inquiring after him, and night came on. 
 W T ent to a house, and they sent me to a local 
 preacher's. I asked to stop. He said they had no 
 accommodations. Brother Ed. RusselL was with 
 me. I told him we could sleep on the floor, or 
 put up with any sort of fare. He still persisted. 
 So we had to plod our way four miles through the 
 dark to Winslow. He did not ask my name, and 
 I did not tell him. We went off singing a hymn. 
 When he found out who we were he never forgave 
 himself. I thought I would teach him not to turn 
 away strangers. We found the horse, and got 
 home, and made or formed the circuit. There had 
 scarcely ever been a preacher over most of our 
 work. 
 
 Many of the people were, or thought they were, 
 
58 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 infidels. Of course they were practically without 
 Christianity. We took in the town of Gratiot, a 
 small place, where they were nearly all professed 
 infidels. They had a neat little school-house. 
 The first time we had service, there were twenty- 
 five or thirty in attendance. The preacher was a 
 stranger. After we closed, one whom we will call 
 
 Mr. C , stepped up and introduced himself, 
 
 and invited me to his house ; said I would be wel- 
 come to such as he had, for which I thanked him. 
 I can not afford to lose the incident, and do not 
 wish to give any offense, as this was the beginning 
 of a social acquaintance. We could not agree as 
 to the Bible and religion; but I retain a warm re- 
 gard for him and his family, and my prayer is that 
 God will yet save him and his. When I called 
 he wanted to feed me, but would have no blessing 
 nor prayer at his house. He had a large table, 
 and stood at the end, talking incessantly, and 
 carved and helped our plates. By this time I 
 concluded to say nothing. After supper he talked 
 infidelity, got the folks almost all to bed, then 
 politely offered to light me to bed. Next morning 
 at breakfast it was the same way. When I left he 
 asked me back. 
 
 Some time after this we had a two days' meet- 
 ing. Brother L,awson, a local preacher, was with 
 me. On Sunday, after service, we both went to 
 take dinner, but no place for a blessing. He was 
 very pleasant. I had to go in the evening to 
 Chapman's school-house to fill an appointment. 
 When I was about ready to go, I said, " Mr. C , 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 59 
 
 I have partaken of your hospitality, and as there 
 has been no opportunity to pray, if you will per- 
 mit me to pray before we part, I will feel grate- 
 ful." " Well, Mr. Dyer, I have said there should 
 be no praying in my house." "I can't help that; 
 I felt it my duty to ask you, and I wish the priv- 
 ilege." "It won't do any good; things will go on 
 just the same ; but if my friends are willing, I will 
 not object." A neighbor was in, his mother-in- 
 law, an old woman, and the hired girl. His wife 
 told her to call in the children and shut the outer 
 door, but not the partition door, for that would 
 make too close quarters. That done, I knelt and 
 prayed with the family, and I think that all felt 
 better. The next time I came he requested me 
 to ask a blessing, and we had prayer, and passed 
 the year the best of friends. When the new 
 preacher came on, he introduced himself to him, 
 and invited him to come to his house, but added : 
 "I don't want any prayer; when Mr. Dyer was 
 here he prayed, and they got it all around that I 
 was converted." I hope he has been before this, 
 for I desire to meet him in heaven. 
 
 I was deeply exercised and earnestly prayed 
 for helj), and to be guided by the Spirit of God. 
 1 Sout the first of December, 1854, while commit- 
 ting myself to God for success, I dreamed I was 
 fishing with a seine, in company with others. We 
 caught fish, and divided them into piles. I thought 
 I got a good string of them ; but when I got the 
 last one, it was so large that it reached down and 
 covered all the rest. A Baptist preacher preached 
 
60 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 every other Sunday, and a Primitive Methodist 
 preached occasionally, and I in the evening. But 
 the Baptist preacher made fun of a Methodist re- 
 vival, and the other engaged elsewhere ; so I went 
 it alone the first week, and was having some stir 
 among the dry bones. The Baptist preacher came 
 and seemed pleased, and was evidently uneasy, 
 for we had two converts of Baptist families. He 
 helped, and the meeting resulted in thirty conver- 
 sions; and when we came to divide the converts, I 
 took in eighteen at nearly the close, and the others 
 got seven. Still there were three that had not come 
 in. They were beset in almost every way to join 
 the Baptists; but, on the eve of closing, Brother 
 Chapman asked me if I was not going to give an- 
 other chance to join the Church. " Yes," I replied, 
 "if I thought any one wanted to come in." He 
 said there had been quite a desire to have him join 
 one of the other Churches, but he had made up his 
 mind from the first to join the Methodist, but had 
 put it off for fear it might check the progress of the 
 meeting. But now he and his family would join, 
 if we would take them. When I got him on the 
 string, I thought of my dream. This was a most 
 gracious revival. To God be all the glory. Brother 
 Chapman had found fault because we made too 
 much noise, or preached too loud. 
 
 At the end of the first week I took Sister Rachel 
 to be with us Sunday, and went to stay over night 
 with him. Before retiring, he laid the Bible down, 
 and said: "You read and let your sister pray; she 
 do n't pray quite so loud as you do." This was 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 61 
 
 before he had made a start to seek his soul's salva- 
 tion ; but when, a few evenings after, he came late 
 with Mr. Richardson, and stood at the door, the 
 invitation for seekers being given, be said audibly : 
 " Richardson, let 's go." Richardson said he would 
 not. "Well, I have made up my mind to go." 
 The crowd gave way, and he never stopped till he 
 reached the stand. He prayed loud and strong, 
 till God in mercy met him ; and as soon as he felt 
 the burden of his sins was gone, the love of Christ 
 filled his soul, and he exclaimed, "Hallelujah!" 
 like rumbling thunder. Let me say, it was a 
 quiet meeting till then. Chapman honored God 
 and his cause as long as I knew him, and was one 
 of the most consistent shouters, at home and 
 everywhere, I ever knew; and if I am so blessed 
 as to reach heaven, I will hear him in glory. 
 Bless God for the prospect ! There was a Brother 
 Fleharty here, who had been an early settler in 
 Wisconsin, and had exercised his talent as a local 
 preacher, and was very useful and devotedly pious 
 for a number of years, but for some cause had 
 ceased to preach, settled here, and had no connec- 
 tion with the Church. He liked to have me come 
 and stay with him. He attended our services, and 
 his youngest son, a young man, professed religion 
 and joined the Church; with which he was well 
 pleased. 
 
 He related an example of answer to prayer. 
 Being acquainted with both of the parties, I re- 
 lated it to my family at home, and my "second son, 
 E. F. Dyer (about fifteen years old), laid up with 
 
62 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 white-swelling, wrote the account for the papers, 
 as follows: 
 
 In the early settlement of Southern Wisconsin, a 
 
 certain Brother F settled in the mining district, 
 
 on the head-waters of Platte River, and proceeded 
 to erect a mill ; during the erection of which, he 
 became somewhat pressed in money matters, and 
 concluded to use twenty dollars that had been 
 placed in his hands by a blind man for safe-keep- 
 ing. He thought, certainly, "I can raise twenty 
 dollars at any time on a short notice;" but the 
 money was called for very unexpectedly, and was 
 wanted on a certain day, as the owner was going 
 
 to leave the country. Brother F went around 
 
 among the neighbors to try and borrow the 
 amount; but the old adage, "He that goeth bor- 
 rowing, goeth sorrowing," was verified in this, and 
 he returned home much dejected; for he was a 
 class-leader and steward in the Church, and thought, 
 what would the world say to his keeping back the 
 poor man's money? He felt that it would be a 
 disgrace to himself, to the Church, and would be 
 a hindrance to the cause of the Redeemer. 
 
 The time had all passed but one day, and that 
 was Sunday. The morning of that day had come, 
 but no relief came to his burdened mind; there 
 was scarcely a hope left. He knew not what to do ; 
 but a thought came to his mind that he ought to 
 pray for help. He had not thought of this before ; 
 but now he went down to the further side of the 
 garden frofh the house, and there kneeled down, 
 and prayed to that God who had so often be- 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 63 
 
 friended and delivered from spiritual trouble, to 
 open up a way for his escape out of this dilemma, 
 and to send relief, that the cause of religion might 
 remain untarnished. As he proceeded in supplica- 
 tion to God, he waxed warmer and warmer; the 
 spirit of prayer came mightily upon him, faith 
 took a firm hold on the Almighty, and the answer 
 came, the mind was set at liberty, and the soul felt 
 shouting happy. Full of confidence in Him whom 
 he trusted, he went home, sat down on the door-step, 
 and, looking up, saw a man coming over the hill 
 toward which the door faced. As he drew nearer, 
 he was recognized as a brother in the Church. 
 
 He had been to the village of P , and was 
 
 now returning home; he drew near and spoke to 
 
 F , who invited him to walk into the house. 
 
 The invitation was declined ; but said he : "I would 
 like to have a few moments' private conversation 
 with you; come, and walk along with me a short 
 
 distance." F rose up and they went together 
 
 down by the garden. Just as they reached the spot 
 where he had been praying and wrestling so hard, 
 
 Brother B said : "As I came to the forks of the 
 
 road, upon the hill there, I felt it impressed on my 
 mind that you were in need of a little pecuniary 
 aid ; and I thought I would just call by and see." 
 Now it was just the same time (as near as could be 
 
 calculated), when F received the answer to his 
 
 prayer, that good Brother B was at the forks 
 
 of the road. The result was, he received enough 
 from his friend to cancel the debt, and have a six- 
 pence over. 
 
64 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I will give an incident in my visiting, for it was 
 my custom to visit every family within two or three 
 miles of my appointments ; and, as all were strangers 
 to me, my constant prayer was that God would 
 make me useful at every house. I called on Mr. 
 no matter: I found him and one of his friends in 
 consultation ; told him who I was and what my 
 errand was. He said he would not say whether he 
 believed the Bible or not; but his friend did not 
 claim to believe it. I talked morality and religion 
 to them, and was about to go away, but said I 
 would like to have prayer with him and family 
 before I left. He positively said he would have 
 no prayers in his house, and I was just on the eve 
 of starting, when his wife opened the door and 
 said dinner was ready. He invited me to take 
 dinner with him. He was a Virginian, and I knew 
 
 their hospitality, and said: "Mr. M , I could 
 
 not eat with a man that would not let me pray 
 with him when I had asked the privilege." He in- 
 sisted. I told him if he would have prayer first, 
 I would eat with him. He said to his wife: "Had 
 we better have prayer?" She replied: "Cer- 
 tainly." "Well, then, call in the children;" and 
 I both prayed and ate my dinner with them ; in- 
 vited them and they came to meeting, and his 
 wife was forward for prayers. 
 
 Another remarkable incident occurred. There 
 was a Mr. S , who lived in sight of the school- 
 house. At first he seemed to be interested in the 
 meetings, but ceased to attend. We went to see 
 him, but he would have no prayers, and said to 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 65 
 
 me it would be time enough for him to pray when 
 he got sick. I spoke of the danger of such a 
 resolution as that. He was in good health, and 
 working at a well. He was a young man with a 
 family. The meeting closed just one week after. 
 As I reached the neighborhood on my next round, 
 I saw a company at the cemetery, but could not 
 think who was dead, as all had been well the 
 
 week before. But it was Mr. S . He had 
 
 been sick only four days. I understood he prayed, 
 but did not hear that he got any answer to 
 prayer. O, what a warning to all that defer re- 
 pentance till sickness comes! God alone can tell 
 the results of this meeting. It was his work. I 
 am only glad to have been a humble instrument. 
 
 This was a hard year. We had opposition 
 from many that called themselves Come-outers, the 
 followers of Foster and Abby Kelly, at New Lime, 
 Ohio. We took in about seventy-five on proba- 
 tion. In September we had a camp-meeting that 
 I have not forgotten. Some good was done. 
 Many of the baser sort came to mock and make 
 disturbance. While I was holding a prayer-meet- 
 ing, and some seekers were at the altar, a brother 
 pulled me by the shoulders, and told me that the 
 rowdies were breaking the lumber that we had for 
 seats. Among them I saw a large man at the 
 root of a tree, crowing like a rooster. I took a 
 candle in my right hand and held it above my 
 head, and made for the mocker. He walked back 
 of the tents, and as he walked, pulled off his coat. 
 I said, "My honey, I see you." 
 
66 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 By this time he was crossing a hollow, and by 
 the time I was at the bottom of it, and starting 
 up, the first I knew he wheeled and struck at me, 
 grazing my arm, and sending the candle spinning. 
 But without thought my fist struck on the left 
 arm, met his eye, and he was at once down and I 
 had him by the throat. Just then, Brother Moore, 
 a local preacher, said: "Don't hurt him." I said: 
 "God have mercy on him; for it is hard for me 
 to." He was making loud cries for help. He 
 went off and swore that I assaulted him, and 
 sent an officer, who took me before a justice. I 
 had plenty of friends, and we beat him on the 
 papers, and I got out of the affair easily; and the 
 general verdict was that he deserved all he got, 
 and that I wa.s the man to administer it. Suffice 
 it to say, it was the only fight I was ever in, and 
 I did not want that one, and was careful before 
 and since to avoid collisions of that kind. That 
 night and next day we had a quiet time. Brother 
 S. C. Thomas was our presiding elder at this 
 meeting. 
 
 The father of the man that crowed lived within 
 less than a half-mile of the camp-ground. A few 
 days after, he was helping to haul hay, and fell off 
 the load and broke his neck. He was about , 
 seventy years old. They had a dance at their 
 house on Saturday evening of the camp-meeting. 
 What good ever came of a dance? 
 
 This was near the close of my fourth year in 
 the conference. The next session was held at 
 Racine, Wisconsin. I was elected to elder's 
 
ADMITTED TO CONFERENCE. 67 
 
 orders, and ordained, with several others, by Bishop 
 Janes, at this time, 1855. 
 
 This closed my work in Wisconsin, at least for 
 a time. I will speak of the country, as my circuit 
 covered the oldest and first settlements of Wis- 
 consin. My travel had been south of the Wiscon- 
 sin River, except when I crossed over from Mus- 
 koda, and preached among the first at Uncle John 
 McKinny's, and south to the State line, including 
 Iowa, Grant, and L,afayette Counties. This corner 
 of the State is not surpassed, take it every way. 
 The greatest attractions at first were its mines, 
 known as the lead-mines, opened about 1830. 
 Men were not allowed to mine at Dubuque till the 
 fall of 1832, when the Black Hawk purchase was 
 concluded. Mines were worked about Galena and 
 at points in Wisconsin. It was not only a mining 
 region, but a good agricultural country. Many a 
 poor man made a raise digging, and went to farm- 
 ing or into other business. Many of the settlers 
 went up from Illinois. They were called Suckers, 
 because they came first in the spring, and took 
 the sucker-shoot back in the fall. Next were the 
 Missourians. You could tell them by their butter- 
 nut jeans coats and pants. 
 
 Our Church was generally the first in new set- 
 tlements, and especially here. Father Mitchell 
 and Major Rowntree were at Platteville. This 
 seemed to be head-quarters for Methodists, and 
 from this place they went from one digging to 
 another, and did most of the early preaching. 
 Rev. T. M. Fullerton started in about 1842. He 
 
68 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 was converted a year or two before, and married 
 Father Journey's daughter, in the Parkison Set- 
 tlement, where Fayette now stands. The presid- 
 ing elders were one of the Cavanaugh preachers, 
 Henry Summers, with I. I. Stewart and Brother 
 Whitfield. They held the revival meeting at Snake 
 Hollow, now Potosi. Some sixty were converted, 
 out of whom came three or four preachers. The 
 Church kept pace with the growth of the coun- 
 try. As we traveled over this part four years, we 
 could but think it the most beautiful part of the 
 world its high prairies, its deep gorges, with 
 diggings on the rough parts, and good farming 
 land on the smooth part. Such grand views! The 
 Platte Mounds near the center, the Blue Mounds, 
 and the good soil, all to be seen from almost any 
 place, were calculated to inspire the mind of the 
 traveler. 
 
RlCHLAND MISSION. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HIGHLAND MISSION, MINNESOTA. 
 
 T7ROM the above conference I was appointed 
 4- to Richland Mission, Fillmore County, Minne- 
 sota, some two hundred and fifty miles from the 
 seat of conference. I returned to Wiota, and be- 
 gan to arrange to start. A few days after, I was 
 called on to join in matrimony Dr. W. B. Thurs- 
 ton and my sister Rachel, who had been a friend 
 and sister to me, and next to an own mother to 
 my children, and, for the four preceding years, 
 useful on all the charges, and more beloved than 
 her brother. They were married at father's, within 
 eight miles of Platteville. They settled in Argyle, 
 where they have resided ever since. 
 
 I left for my mission, accompanied by my oldest 
 son Joshua. We took a mule and buggy to Du- 
 buque, Iowa; thence a steamboat to Brownsville, 
 the nearest landing to my work, forty miles west 
 of the Mississippi River. Here I found a class of 
 about twenty members that had been organized 
 the year before by Brother B. Crist, the only one on 
 my mission, and the only school-house that I knew 
 of in the Territory at that time. We went from 
 there to Preston. Two families made an appoint- 
 ment. Thence six miles to Brother Martin Kings- 
 berry's. He was a new settler; had two small 
 rooms on a beautiful claim. Brother Kingsberry 
 
70 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 was a probationer, and his wife a member of our 
 Church, and they gave us a hearty welcome. Be- 
 fore bed-time, he informed us it was their custom 
 to have prayer each morning and evening, and on 
 Thursday evening a prayer-meeting. They both 
 prayed, and we had prayer-meeting that night. 
 This was the first meeting of the kind in those 
 parts, and is worthy of mention because it was 
 the first time I had found it on thiswise in my life. 
 
 Feeling much refreshed in spirit, we went to 
 Carmona, and from there to near Rochester, where 
 my son left me for St. Paul, to seek an opening in 
 business for himself. I found Rochester was to 
 be supplied by another. There were but few 
 houses in it. Thence I went back to the State line 
 east of Spring Valley, and back by Klliota, to 
 Brother Purcell's. 
 
 This week I received a letter from my father 
 with the sad* and unexpected news of the death 
 of Brother Robert C. Dyer, who was two years 
 younger than myself. We had been brought up side 
 by side, and had been much together after we were 
 men. I had feared something was not right, as he 
 was constantly in my thoughts, and every thing I 
 saw in my travels I wanted to tell him about. 
 But I was not permitted to see him again. I hope 
 to meet him in heaven. His death was sudden. 
 He was with a man for a load of wood. Directing 
 the man to drive home, he said that he would go 
 by a neighbor's whom he wished to see. So he 
 took the driver's gun, and when he got to the 
 house, the lady asked him in ; but he stood on the 
 
HIGHLAND MISSION. 71 
 
 door-step, the gun by his side. It slipped off 
 the step, and discharged into his side, near his 
 vest-pocket, ranging up into his stomach. He 
 survived about thirty-six hours. My father and 
 some of the other children were with him. Brother 
 Thomas held him in his arms till he was gone. 
 When I heard the news, with deep sorrow I re- 
 paired to a lonely spot to give vent to my anguish 
 by weeping, and to ask God to help me to bear it, 
 and to be a more devoted man and consecrated 
 minister. I thank God for his sustaining grace in 
 this hard trial, and for all his benefits toward me 
 in all my hours of distress. 
 
 To return to my work; it was arranged for a 
 two-weeks' circuit, with eight appointments. I 
 found some additional places among them 
 Brown's Mills to visit occasionally. I preached 
 from two to three times on Sunday, and served 
 the other appointments on week evenings. During 
 this time, having a few spare days, I took up a 
 quarter section of prairie-land, cornering within a 
 few rods of the school-house, and had a house 
 raised, working on it as best I could. 
 
 Now, about the first of December, 1855, our 
 first quarterly meeting was to be held. Saturday 
 two o'clock preaching had been announced. I 
 expected my presiding elder, Rev. N. Hobart, but 
 in vain. I saw the people coming, left my work, 
 and took charge of the services. Here we held 
 the first quarterly conference on the mission. 
 Brother James Graham, C. Willford, Brother Ernes, 
 and Leroy Streetor were present. 
 
72 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 It was at this time I first held communion un- 
 assisted. Here, in the almost wild prairie, we had 
 a gracious time. At the close on Sunday night 
 we took a vote as to the continuance of the meet- 
 ing, and every evening for three weeks held serv- 
 ice. There were forty-two at the altar for prayer, 
 and almost every one made a profession of re- 
 ligion. Brother Anthony Willford was clearly 
 saved through faith, as was his wife. He has 
 been quite a successful traveling preacher, and is 
 still in the work. James Purcell was also recom- 
 mended to the conference, but never went to his 
 work as I know of. Many others were converted ; 
 one C. C. Streetor, who afterwards married my 
 only daughter, and now lives in Colorado. Several 
 that I know of are on their way home. 
 
 After a week's rest, I went over four miles to 
 Purcell's neighborhood, and held eight days, and 
 the result was a good revival. Twenty-two joined, 
 four or five by letter, and the rest on probation. 
 On Christmas day we had a good time; the power 
 of God being manifested in the salvation of the 
 people. Brother Purcell had been led off by the 
 Second Adventists, and became cold and some- 
 what soured. His wife and mother-in-law and four 
 or five children, with three or four of his brother's 
 family, and others to the number of twenty, were 
 forward for prayers; and but two besides myself 
 to pray. The father was sitting back. I called 
 on him to come and pray for his family, and he 
 went to the work, and was blessed, as they all 
 were; and next day we closed the meeting and 
 
RICHLAND MISSION. 73 
 
 formed the class, which grew within two years to 
 near fifty. 
 
 We formed a class in Kingsbury's settlement 
 of members and probationers some ten, I think. 
 During the winter our increase was about seventy, 
 This winter 1855 and 1856 was the cold- 
 est I had ever seen, or have seen since. In the 
 forepart of December, there came heavy sleet and 
 snow, and it never thawed for over forty days. It 
 was almost impossible to go out of a beaten road, 
 as there was a heavy crust on the snow. I re- 
 ceived a letter from Wisconsin that seemed to make 
 it necessary for me to go and attend to some busi- 
 ness. I went in February, and as soon as the 
 spring was appearing, we, as a family, moved up 
 into Minnesota. The snow was gone ; but we 
 crossed the Wisconsin and Mississippi on the ice 
 at Prairie du Chien. We had plenty of mud on 
 both sides of the river. We were in our house at 
 once. I was soon around to all my appointments, 
 and found things, after a six weeks' absence, 
 quite encouraging. Our quarterly meeting was to 
 be held about the first of June. 
 
 We got the camp-ground cleared up on the 
 land of Mr. Eastman, near Lenora, which had 
 been laid off, and the lots put on sale that spring. 
 I surveyed and platted the forty acres, and deeded 
 it to trustees, and got it on record. They were 
 to pay me fifty dollars for it, but I took two lots. 
 The proceeds were for the erection of a church. 
 We made all calculations on as good a time as 
 possible. Rev. N. Hobart, with several others, was 
 
 7 
 
74 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 in attendance. It was a great treat to have plenty 
 of help. I suppose it was the first camp-meeting 
 ever attempted to be held in Minnesota ; but I was 
 soon corrected in that, for they had a little one 
 up at Red Wing prior to this; ours was the sec- 
 ond. We had a good, profitable time. About ten 
 were saved and added to the Church. It seemed 
 like old times, with our presiding elder, and 
 Brothers Fate and Crist, and others, to help. 
 This was in 1856. 
 
 Our part of the country was filling up fast 
 with settlers, and we set in to build our church of 
 stone ; but the walls were not v nearly up when cold 
 weather came. Then followed the spring of 1857, 
 and with it the financial crash. This was much 
 worse here, from the fact that we were all new 
 settlers. The majority of the people had spent 
 most, if not all, that they brought with them, and 
 had not time as yet to make anything off their 
 farms. There was scarcely any money in the 
 country; and land that had been bought from the 
 government at one dollar and twenty-five cents, 
 could not be sold for that much, including the im- 
 provements. Nothing was at par, save the salva- 
 tion of our souls. Thanks be to God, no drouth, 
 floods, nor financial depression, can stop the con- 
 stant fullness of the grace that comes from above ! 
 But it may retard the building of churches, and 
 break many a good man financially. Some of the 
 preachers were not exceptions. I heard one who 
 had been worth thousands, and was almost too 
 well-off to continue in the work say that he was 
 
RlCHLAND MISSION. 75 
 
 brought so low, financially, that he could scarcely 
 get enough to keep himself and family from suf- 
 fering. 
 
 I felt the pressure, but not so severely as 
 many. I had taken with me sixteen hundred 
 dollars, with which I secured two hundred acres 
 of land. My fifteen-year-old daughter and Sam- 
 uel, my twelve-year-old son, kept house in our 
 cabin, a mile from neighbors, and alone when I 
 was on the circuit. Daughter says that I left no 
 latch on the door, and that she cried for fear at 
 night. But our God seldom, if ever, permits evil 
 to befall us or our families if we keep on preach- 
 ing the gospel. 
 
 We will pass now to the first conference ever 
 held in Minnesota. It was at Red Wing. Our 
 lamented Bishop Simpson presided, to the admira- 
 tion of us all, both as to "his eloquence and spiritual 
 powers. His preaching on Sunday was never to 
 be forgotten by any who heard it. The love-feast 
 was one of unusual enjoyment. The writer made 
 three attempts to speak, and would have succeeded, 
 but a good sister opened her mouth just as he 
 began to rise. I concluded to improve by her ex- 
 ample, and be ready next time. Nevertheless, the 
 meeting was power all the way through, and left a 
 bright spot in my memory. 
 
 Many of the preachers looked rather care- 
 worn, as though it had been a hard year. I may 
 have judged by my own feelings, in part. It was 
 a good, refreshing session. The brethren proposed 
 a spring session of our conference. I, in my fee- 
 
76 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 bleness, opposed it, having moved one hundred 
 and sixty miles that spring. Some, who lived 
 along the river, said there was no mud in Minne- 
 sota ; and the experiment was tried, but only once. 
 We were not entirely unacquainted with the 
 brethren of the conference. C. and N. Hobart, 
 D. Brooks, Jabez Brooks, T. M. Kirkpatrick, John 
 Hooper, G. W. Richardson, and others, were pres- 
 ent, and kept us from feeling like a stranger. 
 N. Hobart was presiding elder on Winona District 
 again. Brother Hooper was sent to Caledonia, 
 and I was returned to the same work ; only it was 
 called Preston Circuit.' 
 
 We labored, the second year, with some suc- 
 cess. Our last quarterly meeting was a camp- 
 meeting, held at the same ground used the year 
 before. The presiding elder was not present, but 
 sent Brother Fate in his place. Brother Lease, 
 of Iowa, was also there. The first and second 
 day, every service seemed to drag, until darkness 
 prevailed. The writer gathered about one dozen 
 select men, and took to the woods for a prayer- 
 meeting. After a few words of exhortation, we 
 fell on our knees and struggled for half an hour, 
 when the power of God came down, and victory 
 was felt and seen on every hand. The meeting 
 at once gave signs of life, and grew better to the 
 last. The morning we thought of leaving, the 
 preacher in charge felt that there was an unusual 
 power resting on the people, and called for seek- 
 ers. New converts and old members started out 
 for their friends. Hardly any seemed able to 
 
RICHLAND MISSION. 77 
 
 resist. One exhorter was very successful; had a 
 penitent on each side of him, and looked up and 
 said: "Brother Dyer, I got them all but two, and 
 those ran away." Such a scene has seldom been 
 witnessed as was presented at that altar for sev- 
 eral hours weeping, praying, and praising. About 
 forty were converted. 
 
 This closed the conference year; and I left the 
 next day for conference, which was held at Winona ; 
 Bishop Ames presiding. This was the first time 
 I had met him officially since the conference at 
 Fond du Lac, Wisconsin; the first conference he 
 ever held. Rev. Chauncey Hobart and some others 
 were present as fathers among us. We had a 
 pleasant session, and I was appointed to Caledonia 
 Circuit. 
 
 Just here I would say, the financial crash of 1857 
 was fully upon us. I had given forty acres of land 
 toward the Church, which was a large share of all 
 I had. Unfortunately several of us went security 
 for a man, in order to help him bring a saw-mill 
 into the neighborhood, supposing him to be reli- 
 able ; but he failed, and, as it turned out, his father 
 owned all the property, and the security had to 
 pay. I had no money, and so gave a mortgage 
 on thirty-eight acres more to secure my note ; and 
 when the mortgage was foreclosed, the father of 
 the man bid the land in and deeded it to the 
 debtor's wife! It was always worth the debt. 
 This, with some other misfortunes, and not re- 
 ceiving enough the two preceding years to support 
 me and my family as I was a single man and 
 
78 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 one Hundred dollars a year was quarterage suffice 
 it to say, I was financially burst; actually sold 
 my mule to pay a debt, and started on foot to my 
 circuit; visited all the houses, and talked to the 
 people on the importance of their salvation. 
 
 I spent my time thus until near December, when 
 I undertook to hold a protracted meeting at what 
 was called the Red School-house; quite a large 
 one. There I visited twenty-seven families about 
 all in the school district and found but one old 
 lady that gave any evidence of saving grace. I 
 saw all but one family. The day before, on my 
 way there, I met a boy and asked him about them, 
 and he said they had gone away. " They expected 
 you would be there," he went on; "and give them 
 the devil." 
 
 I heard of a family at the edge of the settle- 
 ment that was called religious, and hoped to have 
 a good time. The man was a shoe-maker. I 
 rapped at the cabin door, was invited in, and 
 told them who I was and my business, and in- 
 quired of them if they enjoyed religion. The lady 
 had been an Episcopalian, but the man said he 
 made no pretense, but had more of religion than men 
 running around to every house and raising such a 
 stir among the people. He had a religion of his 
 own, and reverenced his God. Well, the preacher 
 asked him for a bit of his experience, and how he 
 performed before his God. He gave no response 
 to the questions, only said he would as soon hear a 
 man swear as pray. I said : " We generally ask to 
 pray ; but as you would as soon hear a man swear as 
 
RlCHLAND MISSION. 79 
 
 pray, I will waive it on this occasion." The woman 
 said: "I hope you won't go away without prayer." 
 "Well, if you will kneel with me, we will pray." 
 We knelt, and offered a short and pointed prayer. 
 I noticed that the man kept his hat on. When 
 we got up I asked him how he liked the prayer? 
 U O, very well." "Now, sir, if you had reverenced 
 your God half as much as you professed, you would 
 have taken off your hat while we prayed." "I 
 beg pardon," he said, "and hope you will excuse 
 me ; I never thought of it." Of course I squared ac- 
 counts by a promise that he would come to meeting. 
 But while I was visiting, some of the leading 
 men got together and resolved to close the school- 
 house, and not let me preach any more. That 
 night, near time for service, I met in the vestibule 
 two of the school directors, one a Quaker. He 
 said: "Mr. Dyer, how long does thee intend to 
 hold these meetings?" "Don't know." "Well, 
 we have concluded these excitements that thee 
 gets up will hurt our school." I told him that it 
 was thought that religion and education went to- 
 gether, and I was sure that they were not religious 
 enough yet to hurt the school, or prevent the chil- 
 dren from learning. "Well," he replied, "Mr. 
 Jones thinks the weather is too bad for people 
 to be called out every night." "I suppose Mr. 
 Jones does n't think it too 'bad to run opposition 
 twice this week with a dance at his house," I re- 
 sponded. He was a fiddler as well as school 
 director. And so, saying that we could have the 
 house that night, we passed them. 
 
80 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 We had a large audience and good attention, 
 and if ever I gave a warm mess, it was on this 
 occasion. At the close, I said if there was any 
 one who wished to have the meetings continue, 
 we would like to have him say so in the congre- 
 gation. No one said a word. Then I asked the 
 school directors what they had to say. One of 
 them said: "You can have the house on Sunday 
 in the day-time, but not in the evening." u You 
 all three agree to this?" They replied in the 
 affirmative. I gave them a few words on leav- 
 ing, and said I was about to do as the devil 
 never did, and that was to leave them. We were 
 sorry to do so, as our only desire was to see them 
 converted and saved in heaven. We dismissed 
 and left. I will say that it was a common talk 
 that they had closed their house against the 
 preacher, and secured preaching by a Universalist ; 
 and when the hat was passed around, some of 
 them threw in buttons, and so he left. The next 
 year, when the preacher came to the circuit nearest 
 them, they sent a man to ask one of the stewards 
 to have him come and preach for them every other 
 Sunday, and promised to be responsible for their 
 part of his salary. They soon had a revival. I 
 am glad that it turned out well in the end ; for I 
 could bear with them, and often prayed that good 
 would be done in that place. 
 
 From here we went within seven miles of 
 Caledonia, into a settlement where they had no 
 school-house. One of the houses was large enough 
 to hold fifty or sixty people. We began about the 
 
RICHLAND MISSION. 81 
 
 twentieth of December, and the people here were 
 more noble, inasmuch as they heard the word 
 gladly, and we had about twenty-five conversions, 
 and formed a class. We held a watch-night meet- 
 ing, which was a gracious time. Nine o'clock and 
 a little after midnight there were ten conversions, 
 almost a clean sweep. There was to be a ball at 
 Sheldon during our meeting, but we had captured 
 the fiddler. They boasted that five dollars would 
 secure his services; but he told them he had quit, 
 and would not go. It was said they had poor 
 music, and not enough receipts to pay half the 
 expenses. We went down and found there was a 
 very bad state of feeling among them ; but got 
 them all out. Soon all troubles were settled, and 
 a good work was done. Quite a number were re- 
 claimed, and some were converted. We formed a 
 class of sixteen. The good Lord descended in great 
 mercy at both these meetings. One old .sister got 
 very happy, and took a good shout. She was in 
 so great an ecstasy of joy that she made for her 
 husband, who was a member, and he got out of 
 her way very quick ; he almost ran. I went home 
 with them, and asked him why he ran from his 
 happy wife. " Why," he said, " I am just as afraid of 
 her when she shouts as I am of any other woman." 
 We took a little rest, and next went over to 
 the South Prairie. Held a meeting for two weeks, 
 and had about ten converted and joined to the 
 Church, through the blessing of God. We felt he 
 was with his people, and sinners were saved and 
 the members built up in their most holy faith. 
 
82 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 We had some very good members ; Brother Lewis 
 and his wife, good and true, young folks in the 
 Church, and Brother Hate and family, with others. 
 
 Notwithstanding that whisky and cards were 
 used freely, Caledonia had some nice people and 
 some religious individuals. One of the hard cases 
 was a man of family. He loved his company, and 
 spent his money. His wife grieved, as he was 
 wasting his living. She went to a neighbor woman 
 whose husband was in the same row, and they 
 agreed to take axes and knock in the door and 
 windows on the west side of the house, as the 
 wind was blowing from that way. The courage 
 of one failed her; but the other, firm in her 
 determination, knocked the window in the first 
 lick, and struck down the door the next. The 
 wind blew the lights out and everything off the 
 table. The whole crew thought it a mob, and 
 jumped out of the window on the other side, and 
 ran away. 
 
 At another time a saloon-keeper bought six 
 barrels of whisky, and laid them on their sides, 
 with the ends against the weather-boarding. Some- 
 body so the same lady told me bored holes 
 through the boards and into the heads of the 
 barrels at the lower edge, so that there was but 
 very little whisky left in any of them. 
 
 The above shows how women and children 
 suffer by drink and cards. This woman was a 
 perfect hater of these things ; and to hear her abuse 
 both, one would think she had tongue enough for 
 two sets of teeth. Rev. John Quigley came soon 
 
HIGHLAND MISSION. 83 
 
 afterwards, and lectured on temperance. Although 
 I never had the pleasure of hearing him, by report 
 he was never surpassed. The above woman said, 
 when she heard him, she was ashamed of herself 
 that she had failed to tell the half, and felt assured 
 that nothing which would stop the traffic was to 
 be considered mean in the sight of God. 
 
 I traveled on foot this year, and attended closely 
 to my work, and received but very little compen- 
 sation. My presiding elder was Brother D. Cobb, 
 and, if my memory serves me right, he got more 
 money than the preacher in charge. But God was 
 pleased to bless the feeble efforts put forth, and 
 graciously revived his work. To him be all the 
 glory. 
 
 On this charge there was one of the most di- 
 minutive little mills that was ever seen in Min- 
 nesota. While we were looking at it doing its 
 level best, two other men, new in the country, 
 gazed on it with astonishment; and one of them 
 who always would speak in approbation of any 
 thing he could, whined out: " Why, it is the most 
 industrious little mill I ever saw; just as fast as 
 it grinds one grain, it begins on another." We 
 turned away from the first mill erected in the 
 county, with the idea of industry on our minds. 
 
 There was a man whose name was Job Brown, 
 who built a very good mill in the bounds of this 
 circuit. He was converted at a prayer-meeting 
 held by Brother Wilcox. Mr. Brown had been 
 possessed of wealth, as he was proprietor of 
 Brownsville on the Mississippi. He had been, by 
 
84 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 his own report, a very wicked man, a leader in 
 almost every sort of vice. And when he was a 
 changed man, he was just as determined to do all 
 he could for the cause of Christ, and was faithful 
 while I knew him. I heard him tell of his danc- 
 ing, which, by the way, is the mother of most 
 other sins. He and one of his associates had been 
 at swords' points for some time. He was invited 
 by this man into a saloon to drink, and both were 
 the worse of liquor. After drinking, the man said, 
 "I will shoot you with an empty revolver;" put 
 it to his own ear and snapped it first, and then at 
 Brown's head, and again at his own and at Brown's. 
 This way he snapped it four times. The fifth, he 
 put it to his own head, and it went off, and he 
 fell dead. As that was the only load in the pistol, 
 it was concluded that he intended it for Brown, 
 but made a mistake in count and killed himself. 
 This was a shock to Brown, as he saw how close 
 he had been to death. 
 
 Some time before his conversion he dreamed 
 that he saw this man, among others, in a large 
 room that was not more than half lighted ; but as 
 he had seen him dance, lie knew him, and he 
 seemed tired. He soon observed that he could 
 not quite hold up his head, which lolled over first 
 on one -shoulder, and then on the other, and his 
 tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and he 
 seemed to be in agony. The dancing was done 
 without music. The sight was so horrible that he 
 waked, and was glad it was only a dream. It had 
 a tendency to arouse him to serious reflection, and 
 
RlCHLAND MISSION. 85 
 
 was to some extent the cause of his seeking the 
 salvation of his soul. I have for many years 
 thought that dancing causes more of the evils in 
 society throughout the nation, than any other in- 
 stitution the devil ever started ; but that if it were 
 done without music, and men and women danced 
 by themselves, it would not do much harm. 
 
 This was a short year ; for we had met in May 
 at St. Paul. Bishop Morris presided in his usual 
 pleasant manner. He boarded with Brother 
 McClain, who had been acquainted with my father 
 in early times in Ohio. He heard my name, and 
 inquired from where I came. I told him, and he 
 asked me to go and take dinner with him. We 
 went, and had a pleasant visit all being from 
 Columbus, or near there. The bishop gave an 
 incident that happened when he was stationed in 
 Columbus. They had a good old man that told 
 his experience and conversion, just in the same 
 words, every quarter; and at one of the Church 
 meetings his case was brought up, and they feared 
 it would offend him to tell him that he took too 
 much time. One of the brethren was a good 
 singer, and he proposed when the brother got 
 about half through that he would sing a verse. 
 When the time came, he struck a lively tune, sang 
 his verse, and just as soon as it was done, the old 
 brother jumped up and said he would finish his 
 story; that he always liked a little singing mixed 
 in with his talk. The old bishop had not forgot- 
 ten how the old man beat them all. 
 
 This was a pleasant session. I met Brother 
 
86 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Hoyt here, who had preached at my house in 
 early times, about his first effort. I made no 
 request, and was not consulted as to where I would 
 like to go, and my name was read out for Austin 
 Circuit the farthest south-west work in the 
 conference. 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 87 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CIRCUIT WORK. 
 
 I TOOK steamboat from St. Paul to Browns- 
 ville. Thence we walked, riding when oppor- 
 tunity served, forty miles. We went through my 
 old and last circuit. Saw quite a number of my 
 parishioners, and bade them farewell. I have 
 seen but few of them since. We reached Lenora, 
 and found that everything I had there was gone, 
 or would soon be gone. My oldest son, Joshua, 
 had determined to go west, on the Des Moines 
 River, north of Spirit Lake. And we arranged to 
 send my daughter, in company with Miss Maria 
 Streetor, to Red Wing, to the university, for a 
 time at least. So we broke up keeping house. 
 This done, I traded for an old horse, and of course 
 he was not worth much; but I thought it would 
 be better than to go on foot. Accordingly I set 
 out for Austin. 
 
 It was about the last of May and very wet. 
 I traveled along a few miles from the State line. 
 After passing Spring Valley I stopped all night, 
 and it rained hard till morning; when I started, 
 and came to Vanmeter's, at the crossing of a 
 branch of Root River. The stream was out of 
 banks and all over the low grounds. I concluded 
 to try to cross. I went up so as to take advan- 
 tage of the current. I started in water knee-deep ; 
 
88 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 all at once the horse and rider were under, except 
 my head and neck. I supposed my horse would 
 rise and swim; but either he did not know how 
 or would not, for his head would come up and he 
 would make a plunge and go clean under again. 
 This he did three times, when, fortunately, we 
 reached where he could stand, the water over his 
 back, but his head out. There he rested a little, 
 and waded out with me. Once out of sight, I 
 took off my clothes, and made a wringer of my 
 hands, and got all the water out that was possi- 
 ble. I had an appointment about two miles dis- 
 tant. The man said he would have had a dozen 
 to hear me, but the flood prevented; so he had 
 seven. I was all wet and had taken my boots off, 
 and was drying my socks. The time came, and 
 the poor Irishman said: "Can't we have a little 
 preaching?" I said: "I can't put my boots on; 
 would it do barefooted?" "Just as well." And 
 it came to my mind that I had not seen so great 
 faith in all the country. I gave out a hymn, and 
 kneeled in prayer. I learned afterwards that it 
 would have been the better way to have stood to 
 pray ; as my pants stuck to my legs, and I had to 
 pull them loose, or they would have reached only 
 down below my knees. When everything was ad- 
 justed, I took the text: "In those days came John 
 the Baptist preaching, saying, Repent," etc.; and 
 did the best I could barefooted. 
 
 The afternoon was fair and warm, and by even- 
 ing I was well dried. I stopped at the first house 
 beyond the Wet Prairie, crossing a deep creek on 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 89 
 
 a bridge, the water all over it. Three other men 
 were with us, and we led and pulled our horses 
 over, and hauled a wagon over by hand. One tall 
 man got in up to his neck. He was walking on 
 the log that held the poles on the bridge, and had 
 hold of the fore- wheel of the wagon. The tongue 
 took a lunge, and the wheel pressed him off. He 
 went endways till he was all under except his 
 head. He soon extricated himself, got up, took 
 hold again, and said he was not afraid of getting 
 wet now. He was so afraid of getting wet before, 
 that the tongue slipped out of my hand in spite 
 of myself! 
 
 The next day, when within less than half-mile 
 of Brownsdale, I came to a broad slough, water 
 two feet deep. About midway my old horse went 
 down to his body in the mud. I got off, and took 
 the bridle-reins, and pulled, and he made a lunge 
 right toward me. I made for the shore, and he 
 after me, and by the time I got to terra firma, was 
 covered with black mud. I pulled the dry grass, 
 and wiped my clothes as well as I could, and also 
 the bridle and the saddle and the horse, all in 
 sight of town. While I was in this predicament, 
 I thought this was too much for anybody except 
 a Methodist preacher, who had made his vows to 
 take things as they come, and thought nothing 
 could compensate me but a good revival. I found 
 Brother Moses Mapes, who had supplied the work 
 the preceding year. He published preaching for 
 Sunday at eleven o'clock. By Sister Mapes's 
 help, I was fixed up as well as circumstances 
 
 8 
 
90 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 would admit, and had about forty hearers, who 
 paid good attention while I tried to preach from 
 the text: "All are yours, whether Paul or Apol- 
 los," etc. 
 
 I was impressed that there was a revival ready 
 to come to the surface ; so much so, that I gave out 
 meeting for Wednesday week in the evening, and 
 announced that if it seemed promising, we would 
 hold extra meetings if we could have the school- 
 house, which was granted. At the time there was 
 a good attendance; but during the meeting I felt 
 great concern; for I said to Brother Mapes: "I 
 thought we could have a revival, by the blessing 
 of God." "Brother Dyer," he said, "you don't 
 know this people as well as I do. They have had 
 their balls, and run opposition all winter." He 
 gave me no encouragement; but I had gone too 
 far to retreat, and was led to plead with God to 
 guide me in every step, and to help; for I knew 
 that God alone was able to save, and that he could 
 thrash the world with a worm. I came with 
 no self-dependence; and it was well, for if ever a 
 man had need of help, it was on this occasion. 
 For several days, in giving out my appointments, 
 I had a travail of soul. I even had a dream; 
 thought I saw a man up in the air. He was of 
 a dark complexion, riding a black horse ; had a 
 whip in his hand, and I thought he made, in his 
 descent, right for me. As I watched him closely, 
 I saw that he was missing his aim ; but the feet of 
 the horse seemed close, and I dodged my head, but 
 was not touched. So it appeared to me that 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 91 
 
 there was war ahead, but all would be right 
 with me. 
 
 On my return I found a good congregation, 
 and all the indications of a successful work. The 
 next Friday evening the house was crowded, and 
 we made room and called for penitents. About 
 a dozen came at once, and we had one or two 
 converted ; a clear work, and everything was going 
 just right. But on Saturday a man brought four 
 Campbellites, all preachers and, it was said, lin- 
 guists, all but one. Of course I had the house 
 pre-empted at night, but they had a meeting at one 
 o'clock. With about thirty others, I went to hear 
 them, and who should speak but the man I had 
 seen on the black horse w.ith the whip in hand ! 
 His talk was almost all in opposition to the dif- 
 ferent Churches, and especially against the Meth- 
 odists. He said that he would throw all our 
 mourners' benches out of the window, and he 
 gave it to us generally. When he quit and sat 
 down, he said, if there was any gentleman in the 
 house who had any objections to what he had said, 
 he hoped he would reply. I saw they had debate 
 in them, and he asked the third time, and looked 
 at me. I arose and said if I had given such a 
 harangue as he had, it would have been ungentle- 
 manly in me. He jumped up and said, "I am 
 branded with not being a gentleman," and re- 
 peated it two or three times. I replied, "You 
 may wear the 'brand;'" and we were dismissed. 
 They could not lead me away from my fixed pur- 
 pose in the revival work, to engage in any contro- 
 
92 SNOW-SHOK ITINERANT. 
 
 versy. I was as careful about that as I was not. 
 to be hurt by his horse's feet, and so dodged it. 
 
 At night the house was full, and all of the 
 preachers were out to see and hear. We took for 
 our text the words: "That they should seek the 
 Lord, if haply they might feel after him and find 
 him." The Lord helped me, so that the trail all 
 through the subject was as light as day; and at 
 the close I called for benches, and said: "We had 
 one full last night, and by God's help to-night we 
 will have two." Twenty-two came to the altar, and 
 the meeting was about as warm as I was ever in. 
 Several were converted. It got too hot for my 
 Christian brethren. They went out and looked 
 in at the window. They stayed a few days, and 
 left. Our meeting closed with about thirty con- 
 verts, and all but one joined our Church. 
 
 During this meeting, there was an old Roman 
 Catholic who lived in the village. His wife was 
 a Protestant. Their daughter was the school- 
 teacher, and our first convert an accomplished 
 young lady of more than ordinary ability, and a 
 power in our meetings. Her father did all he 
 could to oppose her. After the meeting he would 
 harass and abuse her every night. I called on all 
 
 the families, and with the rest, on Mr. D . He 
 
 was not in. The old lady and daughter were very 
 pleasant, and we had a good visit. Before I left 
 I proposed to pray. They consented, and we knelt, 
 and while in prayer, the old man came in ; and 
 when I rose up he was standing right behind me, 
 and spoke with his rough voice: "What business 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 93 
 
 have you to pray in my house without my leave?" 
 I was taken by surprise, but told him prayer was 
 becoming at all times, and that I was in the habit 
 of praying with his neighbors. He replied: "I 
 won't allow you to pray in my house." I told 
 him that I did not wish to intrude, and intended 
 no harm in all that I had done, and would not 
 pray in his house any more unless he requested 
 it. "I will never do that," he said. "I want you 
 to stay away." Of course I was rather glad to 
 get away, and did not intend to visit him soon. 
 
 During the meeting his daughter was taken 
 sick and went into a spasm, and most of the 
 neighbors ran in to see her. She sent for me, 
 and I went. Her father was away at work. 
 When she could speak she gave her testimony for 
 Christ, who had so lately saved her from sin, and 
 given her a clear evidence of acceptance with 
 him, and a bright assurance of glory. She took 
 me by the hand and said, " I think I am going 
 home to heaven soon," and added: "I want you 
 to preach Christ to lost sinners, and tell the world 
 how I was converted and how I can meet death." 
 Her face was shining with a glow of happiness. 
 She was taken with another spasm, and during 
 her convulsions her father came. He was won- 
 derfully alarmed. In a short time she came to 
 herself, and as soon as she could speak, reached 
 her hand to her father and told what Christ Jesus 
 had done for her, and talked to him, and made 
 him promise to repent and be prepared to die. 
 He was standing at one side of the large chair, 
 
94 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 and I on the other. She then said to him: "I 
 want you to kneel down, and the minister to pray 
 for us." He dropped on his knees, and I said: 
 "Do you say I must pray?" He answered, u Yes, 
 sir." With that license, we bowed together in 
 prayer. This young lady recovered, was married, 
 lived several years, and died in full triumph of 
 faith. Glory be to God for such a convert! 
 
 There was another lady, a leading spirit in the 
 town, who sought her soul's salvation through op- 
 position. She was reared by a Christian mother, 
 who belonged to the Campbellite or Christian 
 Church, and died happy. When she was on her 
 death-bed, she called her children around her, and 
 gave them her dying charge, and in particular said 
 to them that she knew there was a reality in ex- 
 perimental religion, and that she was in the en- 
 joyment of that blessing, and requested them not 
 to live without this knowledge of sins forgiven. 
 Her brother would come every day and say all he 
 could to stop his sister taking any part in our 
 meeting would say, "Just do religion," and 
 made use of the Bible to prove his position. But 
 at the last of his talk she would say: "You know, 
 John, what mother told us when she was dying ; 
 that there was a reality in experimental religion." 
 He never disputed that. We can not but be 
 thankful for a dying mother's advice. It often 
 brings the children to Christ. 
 
 I talked with her every day, and was exercised 
 to a great extent, and laid her case before God in 
 earnest prayer, until he was pleased to give the 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 95 
 
 evidence that all would come out right. Sure 
 enough ; it did come out right. Near the close of 
 the meeting we had a terrible rain. The ground 
 was covered with water, and we had a small turn- 
 out. Three were forward for prayers; the above 
 lady was one. After we had sung and prayed 
 around the three seekers, who were sitting on a 
 seat near the middle of the house, we sat down to 
 wait a few moments. All at once the young woman 
 began to draw her breath so loud that all in the 
 house could hear her. She raised her hands and 
 said, "Lord, take my breath, but give me Jesus;" 
 and looking up, said, u He comes! he comes! O, 
 he has come!" and she gave a shout, the only out- 
 burst of the meeting. None that was there had 
 ever seen so clear a conversion. 
 
 Next came the baptizing, two weeks after. 
 We had a good man from Vermont, Rev. Dr. 
 Frary, of the Baptist Church. He was too old to 
 do much, but did what he could. His daughter, 
 a young lady of promise, was one of our converts 
 When we came to the baptism, he said to me: 
 "Brother Dyer, do you feel when you baptize by 
 immersion that it is Christian baptism?" I an- 
 swered that I considered Christian baptism water 
 applied in the name of the Trinity, by a properly 
 authorized person ; and as our rules allowed either 
 sprinkling, pouring, or immersion, I was willing to 
 give the subject his choice; it was in the line of 
 my duty to perform it in either way. He replied : 
 "My daughter has made a profession, and I think 
 is sincere, and would like to go with the rest, and 
 
96 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I am satisfied for you to baptize her, since we have 
 had your explanation." I must say I had never 
 seen it on this wise before ; nor have I since. There 
 were nine subjects, and there were seven preachers 
 present, representing four different Churches. Our 
 Campbellite brethren had come back by this time. 
 All four of them sat on the opposite side of the 
 creek, where they could see. I heard that they 
 said that it was well done, only one man's nose 
 was not covered. A crowd was in attendance. 
 The Christians only got one that professed at our 
 meeting. They baptized several, left, and did not 
 come back very often. 
 
 We have always felt thankful to God for this 
 blessed work; for it was not by might nor by 
 power, but by his Spirit. I have always felt that 
 he verified his promise: " Lo, I am with you alway, 
 even unto the end of the world." He made a way 
 for our escape in every trial, and we had good 
 meetings every time we came to Brownsdale. My 
 heart says: " Ne'er let old acquaintance be forgot." 
 
 We had eight appointments on this work. 
 There had been no regular preaching, if any, by 
 the Methodists in Austin. Two men had settled 
 three miles above town Brothers Clayton and 
 Dobbins and there was a class there. Here I met 
 the Congregational minister, and inquired if there 
 was any place where I could preach in Austin. 
 He said: " There is but one hall, and we occupy that 
 every other Lord's day, and the Rev. Mr. Gurney 
 the other." "Well, could I have it in the after- 
 noon, say two o'clock?" "That is just the time 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 97 
 
 of our Sunday-school." u Well, could I have it at 
 five or six o'clock?" He lectured every Sunday 
 at six o'clock. "Well," I remarked, "I can come 
 at three, at the close of the Sunday-school; will 
 you be so good as to announce it in your service?" 
 " Yes, he could." I thanked him for his kindness, 
 and preached there through the summer. Rev. D. 
 Cobb was presiding elder. I believe he only missed 
 one quarterly meeting. 
 
 In early fall we held a meeting at Brother 
 Sargent's school-house, two miles east of Austin. 
 There were about forty forward for prayers, and 
 most of them joined the Church. It was a blessed 
 time, through the goodness of God. Then we 
 went to the State line, six miles south of Aus- 
 tin, where was a mill-dam, and three miles by 
 water below was another, and that backed the 
 river up to the former, and each had a city. The 
 surveys brought them together, and of course they 
 had a big lawsuit, and were in a quarrel, and ac- 
 cused each other of testifying to things not true. 
 They had a school-house, but it was not daubed. 
 I helped them daub the cracks. We had two 
 members ; but they gave me no encouragement, 
 as there was no feeling among them. The people 
 were as far as could be from the possibility of a 
 revival. I could only say: "In the name of God, 
 we will try." The two members were feeble, but 
 would come all they could. We held the meeting 
 two weeks. The house was full every night, but 
 the good attendance was all; and I adjourned in 
 about eight days to attend a quarterly meeting at 
 
 9 
 
98 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Brownsdale. The presiding elder was not there ; 
 but, by the blessing of God, we had a good time. 
 
 I returned to our meeting. The first night 
 some awfully big dogs got to fighting, and at least 
 half a dozen got up to go out. I requested them 
 to stop, and told them I would rather the devil 
 was in the dogs than in them; let them settle 
 their own fight. It was not long till they quit. 
 We soon saw signs of good. Several were forward 
 for prayer, and only two of us to pray. About 
 the third night we prayed twice around, and were 
 at a standstill. I thought to call on one of the 
 seekers. As soon as asked, he raised his head 
 and began to pray, and was blessed. Called 
 on another, and he began, and the Lord con- 
 verted him, and they both gave clear evidence. 
 During the meeting we had about thirty converts, 
 and they were almost all brought through trying 
 to pray. One old man was reclaimed who 
 had been a preacher a number of years before in 
 New York. For a few weeks he was very happy, 
 and then took sick and died in triumph. 
 
 We went around the circuit once or twice, and 
 then got the use of an empty store-house in Aus- 
 tin, put in temporary seats, and began a protracted 
 meeting. Of course we had the Congregational 
 preacher to help, and the Baptist also. We had 
 quite a good meeting, but not as many conver- 
 sions according to the number of people as we 
 had in the other places. Organized the first class 
 in Austin, with about twenty members. Held the 
 first camp-meeting in those parts, just above the 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 
 
 99 
 
 town, on Cedar River, and took in ten. One 
 rowdy made himself conspicuous. Brother G. W. 
 Richardson came with Rev. D. Cobb, presiding 
 elder, to help. This fellow was forward with 
 others. Brother Richardson told me to watch 
 him; he thought he was there for no good. I 
 asked the seekers to speak. He got up and said 
 he had slept all the time, but did not know why 
 the brethren prayed for him as though he was not 
 sincere. I said: "How could you tell any thing 
 about it if you were asleep?" About this time 
 he was shoved out of the altar, and told to move 
 with a quick step. The presiding elder was in 
 the stand, and said that the man might well be 
 denominated a three-cent seeker, for he said that 
 afternoon he would give that amount to any one 
 who would tell how to become a convert. While 
 I was around there, he went by the name of the 
 three-cent seeker. With this exception, the order 
 was good, and the results satisfactory. 
 
 I had no place on this circuit to call home, 
 paid no board, and was welcome all over the work. 
 This was in 1858. People were new settlers ; there 
 was hardly any money, and it was a remarkably wet 
 year. Crops were poor. Along Cedar River, where 
 they were usually the best, the floods destroyed 
 about all. The river rose twenty feet in eight or ten 
 hours, and took off all the bridges, stacks of grain, 
 and so flooded houses that, in some cases, the in- 
 mates were taken out at the upper windows. One 
 man was awakened, and the water was knee-deep. 
 He had a trap-door to go into his cellar, and it 
 
ioo SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 floated off, and, in the dark, he stepped in, but 
 caught with his hands, or he might have been 
 drowned. I had to have a canoe to get my old 
 horse over, for he would not or could not swim. 
 Take it altogether, it was a hard year. I do n't 
 know what we would have done, if it had not 
 been that the lakes all ran over and carried mill- 
 ions of fishes into all the streams. The farmers 
 would fill their wagons in a few hours so full of 
 the best kinds, that the fish would roll off as they 
 drove along. Their tables groaned under fishes 
 fried, and baked, and stuffed. The blackbirds 
 were almost as bad as grasshoppers. I received 
 about fifty dollars in money and clothing in the 
 year. 
 
 I remember of a temptation that was presented 
 to me as I was going to commence my meeting in 
 Austin. My coat was not much but lining from 
 the elbow to the wrist on the under side. It came 
 like this : Now you are going up to town, and 
 your coat-sleeves are thread-worn to the lining. 
 But I went and had a good old Protestant Meth- 
 odist preach for me, and I exhorted. I thought I 
 would tell on the devil the first thing, and try to 
 stop him ; so I told how it was, and raised my arm 
 up and said: "I am ready to shake the last rag 
 over you." The next day, to my surprise, Mrs. 
 Holt and others took the matter in hand, and 
 made me a present of a new coat, for which I was 
 very thankful, and I have never forgotten their 
 kindness. I do n't know how I should have stood 
 that year through, only that God in his mercy 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 101 
 
 revived his work all around the circuit. Blessed be 
 his holy name! 
 
 About the first of May I started for conference, 
 which was held at St. Anthony ; Bishop Baker pre- 
 siding. Traveled about one hundred and fifty 
 miles to the Mississippi, and took steamboat for 
 the seat of conference. Every man that came by 
 land was almost covered with mud, and all wanted 
 a fall conference. Many of the preachers were 
 dissatisfied. We had four or five presiding elders. 
 They had two hundred dollars missionary money 
 apiece, or more, and very little was left for the 
 poor circuits. There was a motion for an addition 
 to the missionary committee of one from each dis- 
 trict. It prevailed, and I was appointed from our 
 district. It was the first time I had been in the 
 cabinet, and of course I could not do very much ; 
 but you would better believe, the outside places 
 were represented and pleaded for. One place must 
 have some aid, and so they took fifty dollars from 
 a district to which a new elder was to be appointed, 
 and gave it to the poor place; but none present 
 offered a cent off his own district for any poor work. 
 The addition to the committee, however, caused a 
 more equal and satisfactory distribution. 
 
 This year I was appointed to Wabashaw, Kashaw, 
 and Reed's Landing. This was a short year, and 
 we had but one revival at Cook's Valley. It was 
 a very good meeting, considering the thin settle- 
 ment. A class of fifteen or twenty was formed. 
 We had good congregations, and kept up our work 
 at each appointment there were only three reg- 
 
102 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 ular places. Every Sunday morning we preached 
 in Wabashaw, and divided the afternoons with the 
 other places. 
 
 I remember in the summer we heard that the 
 river was out of its banks that was the Zumbro 
 River. Mr. Bolton and sister took me in a buggy 
 to the edge of the bottom where there was a bridge 
 gone, but it was a mile to the main river. I walked 
 the stringers, and went on in hopes the bridge was 
 not taken off ; but it was gone, and the river full to 
 almost overflowing. I thought for a moment what 
 I had better do, and concluded to make a raft of 
 some planks that were in the drift. I soon had one 
 I thought would take me; got a long pole and 
 shoved off, but presently found myself in deep 
 water, where I could not touch bottom, drifting 
 down stream. There was an island, and I hoped 
 the current would carry me over; but before I 
 reached the foot of the island there was a tall, 
 fallen tree lying straight across my course, and my 
 raft, in spite of all I could do, went under it. I 
 took my boots in hand, and when it went under, 
 jumped over the tree and lighted on the raft all 
 right, and was carried down nearly a mile. I saw 
 some boys on the west shore in a skiff, and told 
 them they might come and take me off. I left the 
 raft with some satisfaction, as I was nearing the 
 Mississippi River, and was about twenty minutes 
 late for my appointment. But the congregation 
 were waiting for the preacher, and we had a good 
 time. Never was I more thankful to get to an ap- 
 pointment, and have wondered ever since how I got 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 103 
 
 over; but certainly the good Lord was on my side 
 that time. 
 
 From this place Brother Crawley, Sister Bolton, 
 and others, went up the Chippewa River on a 
 steamboat, above Durand, to a camp-meeting. 
 When we got to the landing nearest Lake City, 
 about twenty other Methodists got on board; and 
 soon after our boat stuck on a sand-bar, which de- 
 tained us some time; and at dark we stopped for 
 the night, as the water was so low that they feared 
 to run. There was quite a number of passengers, 
 and some of them were anxious to have preach- 
 ing. We had Moses M. Strong, a lawyer of ability, 
 with us, and he and I had lived neighbors at 
 Mineral Point. He secured the privilege for me to 
 preach on the boat the first and only sermon I ever 
 preached on a steamboat. We had a good time, 
 and good singing that echoed from bank to bank. 
 
 Next day we landed where I had been directed ; 
 but they had changed the place three miles, and 
 we had to go through the woods, and my com- 
 pany began to complain that I had taken them 
 out into the desert and lost them. I thought of 
 Moses, and suspected that I felt a very little as he 
 did; but we got there all the same, and found 
 Rev. C. Hobart, the presiding elder, in charge. He 
 at once asked me to preach. I took the subject 
 of the prodigal son, as we had been lost, but got 
 to camp-meeting all safe and sound. Suffice it to 
 say, we had a good meeting, were refreshed, and 
 returned in safety to Wabashaw; and went the 
 rounds of the circuit two or three times after that. 
 
104 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 This was a short year from May to October. 
 Conference was at Prescott. Bishop Janes pre- 
 sided. It was a memorable time, a season of real 
 enjoyment to most of the preachers. On Sunday 
 there was a good love-feast, and the bishop was 
 blessed in his sermon. I never have seen as gen- 
 eral enjoyment in a conference, before or since; 
 everybody was happy in the love of God ; almost 
 all forgot the hard times and the losses and crosses 
 that had been endured. 
 
 Here I received my appointment to Dunville 
 and Menominee Circuit, with Brother J. S. Ander- 
 son. It was a large circuit. Brother Anderson 
 was much discouraged, and went to Eau Claire to 
 quarterly meeting to see the presiding elder, 
 Chauncey Hobart, D. D. The elder did not come, 
 and he made a bargain with the official board to 
 preach for them, and let Brother Thomas Harwood 
 come and travel with me. Accordingly Brother 
 Harwood came. I was well pleased with the trade, 
 but he had been asked to go up to Chippewa Falls 
 and form a new circuit. I had to go to Lake 
 Pepin, and told him I would go and see the pre- 
 siding elder, and lay the case before him. The 
 elder wrote Brother Harwood to stay with me or 
 go to Chippewa Falls, whichever he chose. We 
 talked the matter over, and concluded it was best 
 for him to go, and I would do what I could alone. 
 I say right here, it worked well for both of us ; for 
 he did a good work, and I was told during the 
 year, by two of the official board, that it was the 
 last time they would allow such a transaction. 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 105 
 
 To show their repentance, after a year the 
 quarterly conference passed a resolution that, if 
 the conference saw fit in their wisdom to return 
 him, they would receive Brother Harwood with 
 pleasure. This year's acquaintance with Brother 
 Harwood was no doubt the cause of his subse- 
 quently being a missionary to New Mexico. 
 
 We commenced our work in earnest. Dun- 
 ville, Ogalla, Waubeek, Massey's and Kyle's 
 School-houses, Menominee, Mud Prairie, or Harsh- 
 man's, and several other places, we included in 
 our plan; preaching three times each Sunday and 
 three through the week. In early winter we began 
 our revival services, first at Kyle's. Held four 
 weeks, with forty seekers, the most of whom were 
 converted and formed into a class. At Ogalla, 
 about twenty were brought in and joined the 
 Church a class. At Menominee Mills we had a 
 good meeting, and formed a class of over twenty. 
 At Brother Harshman's, a class of about ten ; held 
 a week, and took in six new converts. We held 
 meetings a few times at other places, and marked 
 attention was given to the word. At Massey's 
 School-house there was quite a class, and we had 
 meeting over a week. Rev. C. Hobart was with 
 us a few days, and preached to our delight. Sev- 
 eral were brought in and joined the Church. We 
 held a camp-meeting at the lower end of the cir- 
 cuit, Rev. C. Hobart, presiding elder, in charge. 
 It was a good meeting, but attended with no 
 such wonderful displays of mercy as are some- 
 times seen. 
 
io6 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I took a trip to Rice Lake, and found only 
 Chippewa Indians, about twenty in number. This 
 was in the summer of 1860. The fallen timber 
 made it impossible to go forward on my horse 
 farther than within a mile and a half of the out- 
 let of the lake. Moreover, the green-headed horse- 
 flies and mosquitoes set him nearly crazy. I 
 should have had to abandon the trip had I not 
 luckily found a logger's stable, in which I -left 
 him, comparatively secure from these insects. I 
 went on foot the rest of the way, and found it 
 very difficult to get through the fallen timber and 
 the young growth; but finally reached the lake, 
 about half-way up. I saw two Indian squaws in 
 a canoe, and motioned to them. They were fish- 
 ing with hooks. I discovered that they saw me, 
 although they did not move. I then took out a 
 half-dollar, holding it between my thumb and 
 finger, and they at once came to my relief. I was 
 glad they did so, for the mosquitoes and green- 
 headed horse or deer flies were almost intolerable, 
 lancing me at will through my thin coat, and set- 
 ting me on fire. 
 
 The squaws paddled me down to the outlet 
 of the lake. The water was about half covered 
 with wild rice, which was quite an item of sus- 
 tenance for the Indians. I was told that, in gath- 
 ering it, they ran their canoes right among it. 
 It stood two feet above the water, and was easily 
 thrashed off into the canoe. It was a Godsend to 
 them in this wilderness country. But the squaws 
 did not allow me to get into the canoe until they 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 107 
 
 got the money, and when my fare was paid they 
 quickly rowed me down to the outlet. 
 
 Here were about twenty Indians, including 
 squaws and papooses, all dressed in Indian cos- 
 tume, so far as they were dressed at all. Two or 
 three men were the oldest-looking human beings 
 I had ever seen hardly looked like men. Their 
 appearance made an impression on my mind that 
 has never been effaced. 
 
 Now my horse was at Grover's logging-camp, 
 at least one and a half miles below, on Hay River, 
 and the fallen timber impossible to cross, and I 
 could see no way to get there but to have some 
 of the Indians take me in a canoe. There was a 
 half-breed Frenchman who could speak an En- 
 glish word or two. He and two others undertook 
 the trip. While they were launching the boat, I 
 looked out westerly, and through the heavy tim- 
 ber saw an unusually black cloud, accompanied 
 by heavy thunder, coming fast. I watched the 
 Indians and the cloud, and made motions for them 
 to row faster; but about half-way they began to 
 talk, and stopped altogether. I tried to urge them 
 on, but one of them said in broken English, "One 
 dollar and quarter," over and over. I was in a 
 close place; an awful storm coming, and the boat 
 standing still. So of course I paid the bill, 
 and they started, and soon we met another In- 
 dian, and they stopped and traded me off, and 
 made me get into his canoe. The terrible storm 
 kept coming, and he got near Grover's cabin, and 
 stopped and gave signs of wanting his pay, and I 
 
io8 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 gave him a twenty-five cent piece, and he barely 
 made out to row me into camp, just as the rain 
 began to come in torrents. Such thunder was 
 seldom heard; but there was enough dry ground 
 for me to sleep on, with some old hay for a bed. 
 I had only a piece of bread and butler for my 
 supper, nothing for breakfast, and about twenty 
 miles to the old Hay River settlement, which was 
 left to the west of me as I went out. 
 
 Here was the battle-field between the Chippe- 
 was and Sioux Indians some time before. I saw 
 where the bullets had lodged in trees and stumps. 
 There was a settlement of old loggers, who, when 
 the logging camps were moved farther up, staid 
 and farmed. I went around, got them all out, and 
 preached to them as best I could thirty-five all 
 told. As it was the first service of any kind in 
 that place, they were all attention. There was a 
 Mr. Tiffany, from New York State, who had lived 
 up there many years, who came to the cabin door, 
 and leaned up against the wall almost spell-bound 
 through the entire discourse. I had a talk with 
 him. He told me this was the only preaching he 
 had heard for twenty-two years, and then he heard 
 Mr. Littlejohn, of New York. He had worked 
 upon a creek making shingles so long, that they 
 called it Tiffany Creek. He seemed to be a man 
 of intelligence ; but so far they had had no schools 
 or preaching. 
 
 From here I made my way to Menominee 
 Mills Knapp, Stout & Co.'s large saw and grist 
 mills over twenty miles. I rode into Hay River 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 109 
 
 where it was swimming deep, and got all wet. This 
 was a well-managed company, headed by Captain 
 Wilson, who was one of the firm. The company 
 had quite a town, and carried on the manufacturing 
 of lumber, shingles, and laths. There was also a 
 large flooring-mill. Three hundred men were 
 employed, quite a number of whom had families. 
 All rented of the company, who had a very large 
 store, which supplied their town and the surround- 
 ing country. This was a regular preaching-place. 
 Among the men, there was one who doubtless 
 had some thoughts on an equalization of capital 
 and labor, and was somewhat fond of fun. One 
 day, while there was a throng around the stove, 
 he remarked that he had a dream the night before, 
 which was so singular that he could not get it off 
 his mind. Some were curious to hear it, and 
 pressed him to tell it. He refused, until the re- 
 quest became general, when he said he feared that 
 the company would not like it. He was assured 
 that they would take it all right. Then he began 
 by saying that, while in a sound sleep, he thought 
 the devil came after him and was determined to 
 take him. He prayed and begged, and asked if 
 there was something he could do that might give 
 him time. Two or three things the devil told 
 him, which, if he would do, he would let him off. 
 The first: "You raise that mill-dam and start the 
 water to running up the other way." He did that, 
 and then asked what next. "You carry those 
 mills up to the top of that hill." It was so steep 
 that it would have been as much as a goat could 
 
no SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 do to get up, but he did it well; and the devil 
 said: "You are a captain.'' "What next?" he in- 
 quired. "Now," said the devil, "I want you to 
 show me a company this side of hell that can sell 
 goods at as high a price as Napp, Stout & Co." 
 He gave it up in despair, for it could not be done. 
 Then he awoke, and was glad that it was only a 
 dream. 
 
 The truth was, when they paid their rent 
 and paid their store-bills, men had nothing left. 
 Times were hard all over the country in 1860, and 
 if anything was made, it was by the company. 
 They were the only company that I knew of that 
 did not go down with the crash of 1857. 
 
 My first appointment here I shall not forget. 
 It had been set for Sunday evening. I as usual 
 was on hand, and put up at Mr. Bullard's, who 
 kept the boarding-house. The company and the 
 whole town were generous. The stable was free 
 for the preacher's horse, and the toll-bridge was 
 free for the preacher. I walked over to Captain 
 Wilson's before meeting. The conference had not 
 sent the preachers he wanted, and he put in his 
 complaint that the Methodist Church had not used 
 them as he thought they deserved. They had 
 preaching only seldom, and some of it on week- 
 day evenings, and so he had engaged a Congrega- 
 tional preacher, and would dispense with our 
 services. I remarked that I should like to attend 
 the services this time. He assented, and we 
 walked together without a word. But mental 
 prayer was my preparation. When we got to 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. in 
 
 the school-house it was jam-full. I thought if this 
 was the last as well as the first, I must, through 
 the grace of God, do my best. Sure enough, God 
 helped me, and I rose far above myself, and a 
 more attentive people need not come together. 
 At the close I remarked that this was likely the 
 last time, and then told them what the captain 
 had said to me, right in his presence, that they 
 were soon to have another preacher, but that if 
 they wished it, I could come once in two 
 weeks till the other arrived. I asked an expres- 
 sion from the congregation. Mr. Bullard said to 
 Captain Wilson, "I think we had as well let Mr. 
 Dyer come for awhile," and he assented, and we 
 went through the year. 
 
 Next morning, Captain Wilson and I met, and 
 he said : " Mr. Dyer, you seem to be a plain, matter- 
 of-fact man, and I want you to make my house 
 your home ; and when we get tired of you we will 
 tell you." "Thank you, Captain Wilson, I will 
 certainly feel at home with you and your family." 
 His wife was an excellent lady, and his daughters 
 very accomplished. I must say it was a pleasant 
 home, and a weary itinerant enjoyed it. 
 
 This place was a green spot on our charge ; all 
 seemed to be friends, and we formed a class. Mrs. 
 Wilson united with us, and others to the number 
 of twenty. I enjoyed visits with Mr. Bullard and 
 wife also. He gave me an incident of one of his 
 Indian friends. This old Indian was taken sick 
 there, and expected to die. It was a very cold 
 winter, and the ground froze four feet. Before he 
 
ii2 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 died he requested Mr. Bullard to have him buried 
 like a white man, and he wanted him to buy his 
 squaw two gallons of whisky so she would "cry 
 heap." When it came to digging the grave, the 
 ground was so frozen that it could hardly be done. 
 There were several Indian tents at hand, and one 
 of the Indians offered to take his tent away so 
 that he could dig the grave where his fire had 
 been all the winter, and where it would be com- 
 paratively easy to dig. There he buried his In- 
 dian friend. 
 
 We felt we had many friends on this charge. 
 There were Carson Saton at Ogalla, with others, 
 on that end of the circuit ; and Mother Massie and 
 her family; Brother William Massie and his wife. 
 For a number of years William Massie has been 
 an itinerant preacher in West Wisconsin Confer- 
 ence. I don't know but I did something to set 
 him out, because he saw what small talents I had, 
 and yet was able to do some good. There was 
 my old friend Lewis; but while I was there he 
 had not seen his way clear to come out in re- 
 ligion. At Mud Prairie was Brother Harshman. 
 
 Here was an incident that occurred through 
 whisky: There was a man brought some of the 
 liquid fire to sell. Three men came with a jug, 
 and got it filled with whisky and molasses about 
 twice. They lived two miles up the Prairie; had 
 a wagon and yoke of oxen ; all got in, and the 
 oxen went home ; two of the three got out. The 
 woman saw they were deathly sick; she adminis- 
 tered warm water and set them to vomiting, which 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 113 
 
 helped them ; and about the time they had thrown 
 up their "black-strap," a little boy came, and said: 
 "Mother, there is another man out in the wagon." 
 She went and found him dead. They sent for a 
 doctor; but it was too late to do anything but an- 
 alyze the whisky. He said enough of it would 
 kill anybody. The saloon-man ran away, leaving 
 the key with a neighbor. All that loved the whisky 
 were in trouble, because of fear. By chance, a 
 Negro came along. The neighbor called him and 
 gave him a glass, and the darkey passed on ; and 
 the man followed him forty rods around the corner. 
 He was asked what he was following him for? He 
 replied: "I gave him a glass of that whisky, and I 
 thought if it did not kill him before he got out of 
 sight, I would take some." Brother T. Harwood 
 was here on a visit, and preached at the funeral 
 of the unfortunate white man. How sad to think 
 of the destruction wrought by whisky ! 
 
 We had a man and his wife who joined the 
 Church this year, and who had some grown chil- 
 dren. One, a son at home, came to get me to 
 marry him. He said that his father would be mad, 
 and that I must go to meet him at his brother-in- 
 law's, Rev. Stubbs. After the ceremony, he said 
 he wanted me to do all I could for him; for he 
 must take his wife home, as he had no other place 
 to take her. I went to the school-house, and gave 
 out a prayer-meeting at his father's, and went in 
 advance to see the old folks. O, how mad they 
 were ! I gave them all the consolation I could, and 
 told the girls that we must kill some chickens and 
 
 10 
 
ii4 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 make a big supper. We caught some ; and soon 
 the bridal party came. The old gentleman would 
 not speak to them; but we all ate at the same 
 table, and after this came the prayer-meeting. 
 Quite a number came, and all prayed around ; and 
 at last, I called on the mad father, an Irishman, 
 and he prayed for us all, and said: "Lord, have 
 mercy on this new married couple. O Lord, thou 
 knowest I had nothing in the world to do with it." 
 The next morning we found him so far blessed 
 that he spoke to them, and soon ordered lumber to 
 build a house for them, and gave eighty acres of 
 land to build it on. 
 
 By this time we were set off in a new confer- 
 ence, called North-west Wisconsin. We were or- 
 ganized at Sparta by Bishop Scott. We were not 
 large in numbers, and but few if any among us 
 claimed great ability; but all were self-sacrificing 
 men, in a new, rough, timbered country, with times 
 hard and many of the people poor. But we went 
 to work. I was appointed to Mindora Circuit; 
 filled all the appointments ; held some special serv- 
 ices. A few were converted at one point, I was 
 only on the work about four months, when I was 
 taken with sore eyes. I still kept up my work until 
 April ; not able to read could hardly read my let- 
 ters; stood in front of the light at night; had the 
 lids of my eyes turned over and burnt with caustic, 
 and concluded to quit and rest awhile. I took a 
 note from my presiding elder/ stating the cause of 
 leaving my work, and with my youngest boy, who 
 was at school in Galesville University, went by the 
 
CIRCUIT WORK. 115 
 
 way of Eau Claire to Dunville. My son stayed with 
 Brother F. Massie until the gathering war-cloud 
 burst, when he enlisted in the Fifth Wisconsin 
 Regiment. 
 
 I might have given some names on this work, 
 had not my memorandum-book been lost. Brother 
 Barber was one of the official members. T. C. 
 Golden was presiding elder. I crossed the Mis- 
 sissippi at Reed's Landing, with Brother C. Ho- 
 bart, D. D. He rowed, and I dipped water, for 
 our skiff leaked. The river was very rough, but 
 the Doctor was a good hand with the oars, and we 
 got over safe, and parted at Reed's Landing. This 
 was the last I saw of him till we met in 1868 at 
 Chicago in the General Conference. 
 
 I made my way through Minnesota to Lenora, 
 where my daughter lived. There I closed up my 
 business, or rather closed out and paid out all my 
 effects that had been left, and was minus over five 
 hundred dollars in one place, owed two hundred 
 in another, and had a good horse, saddle, and 
 bridle, a few little things in a carpet-sack Bible, 
 hymn-book, Discipline of our Church, and a copy 
 of Lorain's Sea Sermons, with a change of linen, 
 and fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents in sil- 
 ver and gold. I received about fifty dollars in the 
 half year, and had collected about fifteen dollars for 
 periodicals. There being a crash with some of our 
 banks, that much was sent back to me from the 
 Book Concern, which I afterwards made good. I 
 traded about twenty paper dollars that I could not 
 pass at any per cent in hard money, for about 
 
n6 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 seven dollars in a coat. I had gone security on 
 two notes, paid one, and gave my house and some 
 lots for over four hundred dollars on the other, 
 and yet owed about seven hundred, and my cred- 
 itor wanted me to give him my horse, or wanted 
 to take it. I had received seven appointments, 
 and attended to them as best I could ; brought 
 about sixteen hundred dollars to Minnesota, be- 
 sides what I received. No man can realize just 
 how I felt, unless he has been at some time in the 
 same situation. There was no extravagance, 
 either, except in going security. 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 117 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 
 
 I HAD made up my mind to see Pike's Peak; 
 that was, if I could see at all, as I had to wet 
 my eyes and wipe them to get them open every 
 morning. I had a bottle of Sloan's Instant Re- 
 lief that I used every day, and my friends said, 
 "You will put your eyes out on the plains," and 
 advised me not to go. Added to blindness, my 
 means ($14.75) were scanty; but I had made up 
 my mind to go if I did not starve on the way 
 and felt that my Heavenly Father would provide, 
 and that my bread and water were sure. 
 
 On the ninth day of May, 1861, I left Lenora 
 on a splendid riding animal. Omaha was my first 
 place of destination. 
 
 As I left Minnesota, I could but reflect on the 
 six years passed in that new country. First, I 
 counted up over five hundred penitents whom I 
 had seen at the altar, and most of whom had pro- 
 fessed conversion. I had been the first preacher 
 in many places, and formed societies; and in this 
 I praised God for his goodness in making me his 
 instrument in doing some good. Then, looking 
 at my financial condition, I could see no way out; 
 but I had given all my property up, and had one 
 consolation, and that was, that I had intended to 
 wrong no one, and cared less for what was gone 
 
n8 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 than that I was unable to pay at once all claims 
 against me. I held myself fully committed to pay 
 every cent as soon as I could make it. I rode 
 that day forty-seven miles. I stopped with a 
 partial acquaintance for the night. We had seen 
 each other several times. I asked for my bill. 
 He looked down his nose, and said, " Twenty-five 
 cents." 
 
 From that to Newtown, Iowa, I made fifty 
 miles a day; rested Sunday at the above place. 
 Before eating, I fed and took care of my horse; 
 but while at breakfast, the landlord saw my mare 
 was about to disturb a sitting hen, and took her 
 into another stall where there was a peck of corn. 
 As the result, she was foundered almost to death. 
 I mention this because the hen worth six cents, a 
 dozen of eggs four cents, and his saving ten cents, 
 cost me one hundred and fifty dollars. I led her 
 a few miles and sold her for a gun, an old watch, 
 and fifteen dollars, a very little more than the 
 saddle and bridle were worth. 
 
 I stopped a day at Omaha, and there was a 
 train of eighteen wagons starting for Pike's Peak. 
 One of the men agreed to board me across for 
 fifteen dollars, and haul my carpet-sack and gun. 
 I was to walk. We set out for six hundred miles, 
 as it was called. A Mr. Penny bossed the train. 
 We got to Fremont about ten o'clock on Sunday 
 morning. I was told they would have preaching 
 at eleven o'clock. I staid to hear, and was asked 
 to preach at the afternoon service, and did so. I 
 thought it would be easy to overtake an ox-team, as 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 119 
 
 that was the last settlement between the Missouri 
 River and the Rocky Mountains. I had about 
 thirty hearers. I staid all night, and caught up 
 with the train. 
 
 There were a few soldiers at Fort Kearney. I 
 exercised myself with two or three trips out to the 
 Bluffs, four or five miles. I wanted to see a 
 buffalo, but never got sight of one, much less a 
 chance to shoot one. 
 
 About seventy-five miles below Julesburg, we 
 came to a house made of cedar logs, just built, 
 and it was on Sunday. Our train stopped, and 
 my company said if I would preach they could 
 get the privilege of the house. It was so ar- 
 ranged. There were others there besides our 
 company of twenty men, which made in all forty 
 very attentive hearers. After it was over, our 
 boys concluded I was disgraced, for it was a house 
 of ill-fame. I replied that if it was, I had had 
 forty whore-mongers to one woman. They did 
 not bother me any more. Those who live in glass 
 houses must not throw stones. 
 
 We frequently met with Indians. The poor 
 creatures had learned to swear. What a pity the 
 white men had no better manners than to teach 
 them to blaspheme! 
 
 One day we came to a station where there 
 were a number of camps, and a lot of drunken 
 men tearing around. A fat dog belonging to the 
 train began to stagger, and soon died. It was 
 thought he got strychnine. The Indians saw him 
 kicking his last, and offered twenty-five cents for 
 
120 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 him. They skinned and cooked him, and soon had 
 dog-soup. 
 
 Here a drunken man came into our corral and 
 claimed one of our oxen. Swore he would have 
 him, holding his gun at a ready. I stood at one 
 end to help, and had a big ox-gad. He ran toward 
 me. I raised the gad and told him to get out of 
 there, and made at him, and he got out at the 
 nearest gap. I looked around, and not a man 
 was to be seen ; they all were scared. This proved 
 quite a brevet to me. 
 
 We reached Julesburg, and there took the cut- 
 off a new road which a company had opened, 
 having bridged two or three sand-creeks with 
 poles, and put up a toll-gate, and of course adver- 
 tised the cut-off. This meant " Do n't follow the- 
 Platte River, and you will soon be in Denver." 
 The trail was not yet worn smooth, and it seemed 
 long and tedious. 
 
 One day, as we were taking our lunch, a Ger- 
 man said: "I believes dese cut-offs is one cut-on" 
 It struck us all, for we began to think it about so, 
 since we were all foot-sore, as well as the oxen, 
 and nothing to break the monotony. The day 
 before we got through, we stopped to water the 
 cattle. I asked my team-boss if I should make 
 some coffee. He was mad, because one of his 
 oxen was not likely to get water, and swore at me. 
 My offer was gratis, for I had not agreed to do 
 any thing, but had done many little things to 
 assist the boys. When I told him he had as well 
 stop his abuse, he said that he did not care for 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 121 
 
 my profession, and would thrash me. Of course 
 I told him he could not do that, and said I did not 
 want to dirty my hands with him, but that he 
 ought to be slapped in the mouth. By this time 
 some of the boys spoke to him, and he shut up. 
 I had got almost through, and had not had a hard 
 word with any of the company. In fact, I believe 
 that, without an exception, they would have de- 
 fended me to the last, if necessary. 
 
 Now we came to the last night on the plains. 
 I had two pairs of pants, about half worn. I had 
 left my pocket-knife and purse in the pocket in 
 the pair that was in the wagon that night, and 
 when I took them out, found the contents all gone. 
 Well, the loss was small, as it was less than two 
 dollars and a-half; but it was all I had, and I was 
 consoled in the fact that I was no worse off than 
 I would have been if it had been five thousand 
 dollars. We stopped two miles up Cherry Creek, 
 above Denver. I took what I had in my carpet- 
 sack, and, with my gun on my shoulder, walked 
 into the town, and met my second son Elias, who 
 had come a year before. He was working in Mr. 
 Sprague's store in West Denver. That was almost 
 all of Denver, the 2oth of June, 1861. Suffice 
 it to say, I was surprised to see so far from any 
 other place so' much of a village; and I have 
 seldom, if ever, seen any one since who has not 
 been similarly surprised when he sets his eyes in 
 Denver for the first time. Why should it not sur- 
 pass his expectation, after traveling six hundred 
 miles across what was called the American Desert, 
 
 ii 
 
122 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 with only here and there a small sod tenement 
 about seven feet high, all at once to come to the 
 metropolis of Pike's Peak? 
 
 Denver was nearly all on the west side, only a 
 few brick houses on the east side, and a few build- 
 ings on Blake Street ; and Wm. N. Byers, on 
 neither side, as his building was in the middle of 
 Cherry Creek, attached to the lower side of the 
 bridge. 
 
 After visiting with my son a few hours, I 
 crossed the bridge where the printing-office was in 
 operation, and saw the name of Byers, which was 
 familiar to me in my youth. I met the man, 
 asked him about his birthplace, and he replied: 
 "Madison County, Ohio." I said: "You were born 
 in 1830, either in February or March." He told 
 which, r.nd it appeared we had been raised within 
 four miles of each other, but I had left when 
 he was only six months old; but soon I met 
 Daniel Andrews, who kept the Chicago House. 
 We had been near neighbors in Illinois. 
 
 On Sunday evening I was invited to preach by 
 Rev. Mr. Kenny, the newly arrived preacher for 
 Denver, of the Methodist Episcopal Church. I 
 remember the subject was repentance, and in 
 speaking of the full surrender of a sinner to God 
 in order to his being taken back 4 into favor, de- 
 clared that it must be unconditional; and as I had 
 just heard of our war being a reality, I illustrated 
 by what terms would be granted the rebels they 
 never could be received back except on uncondi- 
 tional surrender and added, that though it might 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 
 
 123 
 
 be through fire and blood, it would come. And as 
 there was much feeling on the subject just then, sev- 
 eral in the audience rose to their feet in sympathy 
 with the patriotic sentiment. The remarks were 
 more prophetic than the speaker was aware of at 
 the time, but he always believed that such an end 
 of the Rebellion would come. 
 
 I swapped my watch for about twenty dollars' 
 worth of provisions flour, side-bacon, dried ap- 
 ples, sugar, coffee, and salt enough to save it, with 
 .a few cans of fruit. Price, on an average, about 
 twenty-five cents per pound. My son gave me a 
 buffalo-skin and quilt for bedding. My mind was 
 bent on a mountain trip, and no time to spare, as 
 I thought of getting back by the last of Septem- 
 ber. The Phillips Lode, at Buckskin Joe, was the 
 point of the greatest excitement at that time. I 
 joined myself to a company which had a team. 
 They hauled my stuff, and I started on foot for an- 
 other hundred miles. This was the third day of 
 July, 1 86 1. We reached Apex, at the foot-hills, 
 the first day, which I supposed we would reach by 
 noon. But I was like the man, several years after, 
 that started to the same place before breakfast; 
 traveled till he got tired, and seeing a ditch some 
 fifty yards ahead, he stopped and began to pull off 
 his boots. His comrade asked him what was the 
 matter? He replied: "If that ditch" about four 
 feet wide "is as much wider in proportion as the 
 mountains are further from Denver than they look 
 to be, I will have to swim it." 
 
 We began to ascend the mountains on the 4th 
 
124 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of July, 1 86 1, and as it was my first mountain trip, 
 I was wonderfully interested. It was so different 
 from what I supposed timber, grass, shrubs of 
 many kinds, strawberry-vines in full bloom, with 
 an occasional view back across the plains. It was 
 a pleasant day. I indulged in reflections on the 
 wonders of the creation of God ; but could not con- 
 ceive that the signers of the Declaration of our 
 Independence had even a faint idea of the half they 
 were doing. 
 
 We reached the head of the North Platte, on 
 Kenosha Hill. For over twenty miles, up the 
 canon, we had been shut out from seeing much of 
 the world by the towering mountains on either 
 side. We were well prepared, as we reached the 
 top, to be astonished at the sight of South Park, 
 which from this point is a view of grandeur never 
 to be forgotten. Prairies, surrounded with high 
 mountains and interspersed with pine-groves and 
 small peaks a very Eden Park are a sight seldom 
 surpassed even in the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 On the ninth day of July, we reached Buck- 
 skin Joe Camp. Just two months from the day I 
 left Lenora, Minnesota, my eyes had improved a 
 little. Otherways, I enjoyed good health, after a 
 tramp of over seven hundred miles on foot. What 
 a difference between then and now ! Then, a half- 
 beaten wagon-track on an Indian trail; now, the 
 passenger sits on a cushioned seat, and rests at 
 night in a sleeping-car! One thing is certain 
 he can 't come as independently as I came on 
 twenty-seven dollars! 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 125 
 
 I find among my papers "A Short Account 
 of My First Year in Colorado, Commencing June 
 20, 1861," which I read before the first District 
 Ministerial Association ever held in Denver. I 
 walked from Summit County in order to read it. 
 Governor John Evans, after hearing it, presented 
 me with fifteen dollars. At the risk of repetition, 
 I will give it here: After resting a few days in 
 Denver, having walked from Omaha, Nebraska, 
 and having preached once, I started on the 3d 
 of July for Buckskin Joe, in South Park; and 
 on the 9th saw the Phillips Lode, then the bo- 
 nanza of the country. On inquiry I found that 
 Brother William Howbert had preached a funeral 
 sermon in 1860, and Brother William Antis had 
 held one service. This was the first preaching in 
 these parts. Rev. William Howbert was on the 
 South Park Mission, 1861. 
 
 The following Sunday we selected a shade, 
 with a few logs for seats, where services were kept 
 up for some time, with street-preaching at night. 
 In a short time Brother Howbert preached, and 
 proposed to form a class; and as no move was 
 made, I arose, and said I had often beat up for 
 volunteers, and always felt like joining over again, 
 and now was my time; and gave my hand and 
 name to the Church. Over twenty followed. 
 They formed the first class so high up in the 
 mountains. 
 
 The first Sunday in August I walked eight 
 miles to Montgomery to preach, and instead of 
 finding a good number, all were out staking off 
 
SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 claims but one man. He asked me to take din- 
 ner. We sat down on the ground to eat, as there 
 was not a house, table, or stool, in the place. 
 From there I made my way up to Quartz Hill, 
 just at timber line, where I preached to about 
 thirty attentive hearers, and felt that the Lord 
 was with us indeed ; walked back sixteen miles, 
 and held two services; the next Sabbath, visited 
 Fair Play, and preached to thirty, who all gave 
 good attention to the words spoken, as it was the 
 first preaching there. On the 25th of August I 
 tried to preach the first sermon in Mosquito by 
 a camp-fire, as there was no house at the time in 
 the place. For nine weeks my house was made 
 of poles and pine-boughs, so thatched that they 
 turned the rain after being well soaked one night. 
 Worked through the week by the day and 
 contract. 
 
 On the 1 6th of September I set out for Cali- 
 fornia Gulch, having been solicited previously to 
 take charge of that mission by the pastor who 
 supplied it. He agreed to have the presiding 
 elder make the change. But he left in disgrace, 
 and the presiding elder John M. Cherington 
 had become a major in the army. I was left on 
 my own resources, in a wilderness country, with 
 six or seven members, and they scattered over one 
 hundred miles ! The outfit was a buffalo-skin and 
 quilt, some crackers, a piece of bacon, coffee and 
 sugar, with some dried apples, a tin cup, and an 
 oyster-can; in all, thirty-seven and one-half pounds 
 to pack on my back. I now made my way up 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 127 
 
 the range, about eight miles, to the top of the 
 Mosquito Pass, the highest and hardest range I 
 had then crossed. From here I could see the 
 head of the Platte River, Arkansas, Blue River, 
 and the head of the Grand River ; like the Garden 
 of Eden, it was at least the starting point of all 
 these mighty rivers. 
 
 As I took a view of those gigantic mountain 
 peaks and deep gorges, the thought came to me, 
 if heaven is above, I am nearer Canaan's shores 
 than ever before. After prayer for our country on 
 both sides, and for myself, alone on the dividing 
 range of our great continent, I partook of my 
 frugal stores, and that night preached at California 
 Gulch, now Leadville. The next day started alone 
 for the Gunnison country, following an Indian trail. 
 Had to wade the Arkansas. Took off my boots, 
 and I thought the top of the cold w r ater would 
 cut my legs off; and that day I saw for the first 
 time the beautiful Twin Lakes. Had not heard 
 of them before. My surprise may be imagined. 
 My path was up Lake Creek, a perfect mountain 
 wilderness, snowy ranges towering on either side. 
 I had not seen a human being for several miles ; 
 night was coming on, and I began to look for a 
 camping-place. I heard, just as the sun was sink- 
 ing behind the snow-capped mountains, the sound 
 of a bell, and soon found five men. They had 
 one burro to pack their food and blankets. I 
 asked for lodging. They said : 4 " If you can fur- 
 nish your own accommodations, you can stay." I 
 accepted. I had a paper with me with a sermon 
 
128 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 preached by Dr. Elliott, in St. L,ouis, on the 
 "Rights of God and Caesar." It was in war time, 
 and by the fire made of pine-roots it was read, 
 and you would better believe it was a grand treat. 
 Next morning I had breakfast, and started before 
 my company, and at three o'clock was at Kent's 
 Gulch, where there were about one hundred men, 
 one of whom had a family. He had raised his 
 house, and was just covering it with poles, grass, 
 and dirt. I told him I was a bit of a Methodist 
 preacher, and would like to preach in his house. 
 He said: " You can, sir, when I get the roof on." 
 It was announced for the next night, and nearly 
 every man in the diggings came. There were a 
 table and two benches. When the benches were 
 full, the hearers sat on the ground all around the 
 walls, and the next row against their knees, until 
 every foot of space was filled. The tent opposite 
 the door and the space around the door were 
 also crowded. It was as singular a scene as 
 the Savior had, when he broke bread to the 
 multitude. My subject was " Repentance and 
 Conversion." A more attentive crowd is seldom 
 seen, and God's presence was manifest, and the 
 preacher felt that he was standing between the 
 living and the dead. This was the first effort in 
 the way of preaching ever made in all the Gun- 
 nison country. One man arose and took a collec- 
 tion of about twenty dollars in gold-dust, and 
 gave me an invitation to come and preach again. 
 The woman said she had no time to hear; must 
 do up her work, and so washed dishes until the 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 129 
 
 text was read. She turned her back to her work, 
 holding her dish-cloth in her hand, and never 
 moved until the discourse was closed. I found 
 three members of our Church, Brothers Gamble, 
 Dunnagan, and Case. 
 
 The next day I took my pack and started for 
 Washington Gulch, forty-five miles west, on a dim 
 Indian trail. Near the crossing of Taylor River 
 I overtook a pack-train loaded with food, all but 
 one burro, which had twenty gallons of whisky. 
 Just then we were met by a number of prospec- 
 tors. They saw the whisky-kegs. Of course they 
 must have some. They caught the burro, one 
 holding it by the head, and another by the tail, 
 and the third trying to get the cork out. The 
 preacher stepped up, and asked if they were tap- 
 ping the jack. "No," was the reply, "it is the 
 keg." .Suffice it to say, they all drank out of a 
 tin cup, and one of them poured out gold-dust 
 into the freighter's hand until he was satisfied. 
 Well, I passed on, and for once got in ahead of 
 the whisky. 
 
 That day we passed Deadman's Gulch. At 
 this place six white men had been killed by a 
 company of Indians in '1859. ^ ^ s sa ^ ^ iat ^ e y 
 fought bravely, standing behind their horses ; and 
 it looked as though it might have been so, as I 
 saw the bones of several horses, as well as a part 
 of the frames of six human beings, that lay bleach- 
 ing in the mountains. They had been slightly 
 buried, but the wolves had uncovered them. Kit 
 Carson was informed by the Indians that several 
 
130 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of their number were killed, and some wounded. 
 There was none to tell us of the dreadful scene; 
 the tall pines alone witnessed the ascent of the 
 dead men's ghosts. 
 
 We camped near that place. It was very high, 
 and disagreeably cold. Next day I camped, in 
 company with two men, in sight of Minersville, 
 on Washington Gulch. Sabbath, the 24th of Sep- 
 tember, I entered the town, and shall not forget 
 the scene. One man was cutting and selling beef; 
 others rolling logs down the hill ; others covering 
 their cabins; another building a chimney; and still 
 others selling provisions and whisky in a tent. 
 From this stand-point I resolved to announce my 
 appointment. 
 
 The first man I spoke to was dressing some 
 grouse. After salutation, I said : " Did not you ex- 
 pect a Methodist preacher would be on hand as 
 soon as you had chicken to eat?" " Well," he said, 
 " I have heard that they were fond of chickens," 
 and gave me a welcome to take dinner with him. 
 The preacher was on hand in time. I stepped 
 out to about the center of the camp, and said: 
 "O yes! Oyes! O yes! there will be preaching 
 at half-past ten o'clock wherever the most people 
 can be found together." 
 
 As I walked around the camp, I met some 
 going fishing, others berrying, and invited all. 
 Here I met Brother Tindal, of Georgetown. One 
 asked me who was going to preach. I made a bow, 
 and said : " I am going to try, with the help of God." 
 He seemed much astonished. Meeting quite a 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 131 
 
 hard-looking man, I invited him to come and hear 
 preaching. He replied: "It doesn't look well for 
 a man to ask people to come and hear him preach." 
 The preacher looked at him in the crowd, and 
 said: "Sir, if I could get such a looking man as 
 you are to come by asking him, I would do well." 
 
 The time arrived, and now came the tug of 
 war ; for the most people were around the grocery. 
 Forty men and jacks, mules, and ponies. Just 
 now the preacher began to sweat. It was hard to 
 speak in such a place, not knowing that there was 
 one in sympathy with him; but it must be done. 
 I got in front of the tent, under the shade of a 
 pine-tree, and read the hymn, beginning, "Alas! 
 and did my Savior bleed?" and as I tried in the 
 old way to sing it, a number joined in and helped ; 
 but some were selling, others buying, and some 
 packing their beasts. At the proper time I said : 
 "Let us pray." After this the poor preacher be- 
 gan to feel better, and the people kept coming in 
 until there were over one hundred. And as the 
 speaker proceeded, he felt that God had verified 
 his promise: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto 
 the end of the world." I was at the last camp 
 east of California, and had the evidence that God 
 was in the wilderness as well as in the city full, 
 and felt that I could run through a troop. 
 
 I will state two things that took place during 
 the service. When about half through, three men 
 got on their ponies in the outskirts of the congre- 
 gation, and one of them waved his hat and said 
 farewell. The speaker responded for the audience, 
 
132 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 and also said, "God have mercy on your soul," 
 and they passed away. Soon after this a mule 
 reached his head into the tent and took out a loaf 
 of bread, and started off with it ; but was soon 
 caught, tied up, and the bread taken away, so that 
 we were getting rid of some of the stock. Not- 
 withstanding these interruptions, most of the 
 hearers listened with great attention. At the close, 
 I gave out that I would have a camp-meeting at 
 night. There were tents enough, and plenty of 
 pine-knots for light, but that we would have to 
 dispense with the women, for there was but one 
 within a hundred miles of us. We built an extra 
 fire or two, and I suppose there were not less than 
 one hundred and fifty people out to hear the word. 
 
 We had services on Monday evening again. It 
 was seed sown in weakness. God only knows the 
 results. A man came to me at the close, and in- 
 vited me to take breakfast with him; said it was 
 the first sermon he had heard preached for eight 
 years, and several said it was the first they had 
 heard for two years. I met a man here from Wis- 
 consin, and another from Minnesota, whom I had 
 been acquainted with. They gave me about ten 
 dollars. 
 
 On Tuesday I started back alone on the Indian 
 trail, and near sunset met a German in Deadman's 
 Gulch, and in sight of the bones of the six men 
 killed by the Indians. He made some inquiries. 
 I told him where we were, and pointed to the 
 bones, and he began to whip his jack and put out; . 
 did not want to hear any more. Within a mile 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 133 
 
 I met a man that had stopped to camp. We 
 agreed to lodge together. I saw at once that he 
 was a Southerner; his speech betrayed him. I 
 was careful to say nothing relative to the war; but 
 he asked me how I stood as to the Rebellion. I 
 told him I was for the Union, and remarked it 
 would not be worth while for us to fight here, as 
 we had no reporter. He said we could talk 
 friendly on the subject; so we did, and parted 
 friendly, after sleeping under the same tree. He 
 was armed, and I was not, save the arms that 
 God had given me, but I felt safe in his protect- 
 ing care. 
 
 Next day I reached Kent's Gulch, and stayed 
 until Monday. I preached twice, and again took 
 the trail across the range to Twin Lakes and Cask 
 Creek. I will here speak of the first preaching on 
 Cask Creek, some four weeks before in a saloon. 
 The owner said I was welcome if I would preach. 
 The reply was: "If you can get more sinners in 
 there than in other places, there is no good reason 
 why I should not try to reform them in that or 
 any other place." I had some fifty hearers. The 
 preacher stood at the end of the counter, and this 
 time Bible and hymn-book took the place of 
 bottle and glass, and the preacher had control for 
 the hour, and seldom felt greater freedom in dis- 
 pensing the word of life to an attentive set of 
 miners. From my observation, I began to think 
 that scarcely a man had crossed the plains who 
 would not behave in divine service. And as there 
 were no trees without going into the woods, I 
 
134 SNOW-SHOE ITINKRANT. 
 
 found room in a cabin to sleep, and after I retired, 
 a man came in and asked me to get np and go 
 with him and marry a couple. Of course I went. 
 I wished to know something of the case in hand. 
 They gave the following account: 
 
 The couple had run away from near Denver. 
 The girl's father was opposed to the match. In 
 their flight, they found a justice, and he performed 
 the ceremony of matrimony. The father followed, 
 with help, some eighty miles; and while the bride 
 and groom were eating their dinner on the bank 
 of a creek in South Pask, the pursuing party came 
 up and demanded the girl of sixteen. All being 
 armed, the girl stood between her father and her 
 husband until he hitched up, and then, jumping 
 into the wagon, the plucky couple put for the 
 mountains ; and the father and company gave up 
 the chase, but told them he knew the justice had 
 no commission. The groom pleaded with me to 
 marry them, so that the father would be better 
 satisfied, knowing that a preacher had performed 
 the ceremony. I thought they were married and 
 that it would do no harm to marry them over again, 
 and so did it. I was out of money, and he gave 
 me two half-dollars. 
 
 The next day I visited Georgia Bar, on the 
 Arkansas River; found some fifty men at work 
 panning out the dust ; gathered a few, and preached 
 at night. Next morning, as I passed up the Bar, 
 thought it a mighty contact, water against rock. 
 I felt gloomy, and the scene looked so ; and just as 
 I passed a cabin, a man came out and asked me 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 135 
 
 if I was the man that preached below last night. 
 "Yes, sir." He said a young man died there last 
 night, and asked me to attend the funeral. Forty 
 men and two women were present. All seemed to 
 be deeply affected, as it was the first funeral most 
 of us had been at in the mountains. He was buried 
 as decently as the circumstances would admit. 
 From there I went to California Gulch, and 
 preached ; and, after resting a few days, went to 
 the Gunnison again. Falling in with a Mr. Noah 
 Armstrong, we bought a jack, packed him, and I 
 thought that, as I was on my own hook, it would 
 be well to dig a little, as necessity seemed to de- 
 mand it. 
 
 We prospected over three weeks without suc- 
 cess, when a deep snow fell. We were seventy 
 miles from any winter quarters, and the main 
 range to cross, and the snow from three to five 
 feet deep. While we were out, on the first Sun- 
 day, my partner said, as we did not work, we 
 ought to have preaching. I told him if he could 
 stand the application, I could preach to him. So 
 he gave it out for one o'clock; and after the pre- 
 liminaries, knowing my whole audience had plenty 
 at home, and had lost all in the mountains, I com- 
 mented on the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Suf- 
 fice it to say, the congregation was attentive and 
 serious. We staid so long that it was with diffi- 
 culty we got out. We were several days on short 
 allowance, and one day had nothing. We shov- 
 eled snow three days and a half to get three and 
 a half miles ; but, by the blessing of Gofl, we made 
 
136 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 the riffle. I reached California Gulch in good 
 health, weighed one hundred and sixty-three 
 pounds, and when I left the States, pulled one 
 hundred and ninety-two pounds. I found out 
 that a man at forty-seven, getting fat, could walk, 
 work, and preach off all the fat. 
 
 I stayed at the above place until the yth of 
 January ; held meetings for ten nights ; some rose 
 for prayers, but they must have the school-house 
 to dance in, and we had to yield ; and then started 
 alone for Buckskin Joe, by the Weston Pass. At 
 timber height I was met by a severe snow-storm. 
 Had a box of matches, but not one would burn. 
 The prospect was frightful. I prayed and dedi- 
 cated myself to God, and thought that by his 
 grace I would try to pull through. For five or six 
 hours I waded the snow waist-deep, until, almost 
 exhausted, I leaned up against a tree to rest. I 
 never saw death and eternity so near as then. 
 My life seemed to be at an end ; but I resolved to 
 keep moving, and when I could go no more, would 
 hang up my carpet-sack, and write on a smooth 
 pine-tree my own epitaph "Look for me in 
 heaven;" but through the goodness of God, I 
 reached the toll-gate about one hour after dark; 
 and I shall never forget the kindness of the Swede 
 who took me in and cared for me. 
 
 From here to Fairplay, called fifteen miles, I 
 gathered up a congregation of twenty-five, and 
 preached at the store of Mr. Shannan. From 
 there I went to Buckskin Joe, and, with Brother 
 Antis, held meeting for two weeks, in the face of 
 
PIKE'S PEAK AND WESTWARD. 137 
 
 every kind of opposition at least two balls a week, 
 a dancing-school, a one-horse theater, two men 
 shot and yet, notwithstanding all these things, 
 we had a good meeting. The Chnrch was much 
 revived, and several backsliders were reclaimed. 
 In about four months I traveled near five hundred 
 miles on foot, by Indian trails, crossing logs, car- 
 rying my pack, and preaching about three times 
 a week. Received forty-three dollars in collec- 
 tions at different places. Nothing that we ate 
 cost less than twenty-five cents per pound, and we 
 had to carry freight on our backs. Spent about fifty 
 dollars of my own resources, as I had worked by 
 the day and job through the week, and preached 
 nights and Sundays. My clothes were worn out; 
 my hat-rim patched with dressed antelope-skin; 
 my boots half-soled with raw-hide. This is a 
 sample of my work and experiences the first year 
 
 in the mountains of Colorado. 
 
 12 
 
138 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN COLORADO. 
 
 TV BOUT the ist of February I started on foot 
 -^p- for Denver. We had a stage once a week 
 to Buckskin Joe. Fare, ten dollars each way. 
 I could walk the hundred miles in two days 
 and a half. If I did not make money, I could 
 save some. On Saturday evening I reached the 
 city of Denver, dressed, as far as it went, in miner's 
 clothes, minus a vest. I thought it would be all 
 right to sit back and hear the preacher; but 
 who should it be but Colonel Chivington, in his 
 military stiit, with belt, bowie-knife, and revolver. 
 I had taken my seat half-way back. As he passed, 
 he took hold of my collar, pulled me out into the 
 aisle, and said: "Come, preach for me." Of 
 course, by this everyone in the house had seen me, 
 as well as my clothes. I walked up, told him to 
 give out a hymn, and afterwards I led in prayer. 
 It was always best for me to whet my own scythe. 
 I will say nothing about the effort, only that I 
 forgot all about poor clothes. 
 
 The next day I was passing a store, and was 
 called in by my esteemed friend, Brother Pease, 
 now of Cheyenne, Wyoming, who made me a 
 present of a vest. I have not been without one 
 since. This gave the colonel a chance to tell an 
 incident, which contrasts the preachers of the past 
 
IN COLORADO. 139 
 
 and present, and shows the generosity of a Pres- 
 byterian in early times. It was common for our 
 preachers to wear homespun ; and their wives 
 often spun, and sometimes wove the jeans on the 
 common loom. I think they do not do so now. 
 Well, all right. 
 
 At the first conference of the Methodist Church 
 ever held in the city of Columbus, Ohio, Rev. 
 Russel Bigelow, one of the members, was dressed 
 as above, and present. Rev. James B. Finley was 
 the preacher in charge, and was told by a Presby- 
 terian friend that if he would send him one of 
 their best preachers, he would board him. He 
 sent Brother Bigelow, whose plain garb almost dis- 
 gusted his host and family. Meeting Mr. Finley, 
 he said: "Why did you not send a respectable 
 preacher?" " You wanted one of our best preachers, 
 and the one sent is to preach at your church Sun- 
 day, and if you do n't say he is good or the best 
 you ever heard, I am mistaken!" Sunday came, 
 and they took their pews. The lady and the two 
 daughters kept their veils over their faces at first ; 
 but as he began to rise in his discourse, they lifted 
 their veils, while the host, with many others, was 
 unconsciously standing on his feet. I suppose 
 they forgot all about his coarse clothes. Mr. 
 Finley met his friend next day, and asked him 
 how he liked his preacher. He answered: "You 
 Methodists are not fit to have such a preacher!" 
 He took him to a tailor and ordered him a fine 
 suit, which the eloquent Bigelow always kept to 
 wear to conference. Such were the men we had 
 
140 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 fifty or sixty years ago. There were not ten his 
 equals in the United States at the time of his 
 death. 
 
 I made a trip to the Wide-awake Camp, and 
 tried to preach several times, and over to Central 
 City, to help Brother Adriance hold a quarterly 
 meeting, about the first of March. We had a use- 
 ful meeting. 
 
 In the latter part of March, 1862, I received a 
 letter from Brother B. C. Dennis, presiding elder of 
 the Rocky Mountain District, Kansas Conference 
 at this time Colorado was included in this confer- 
 ence asking me to take charge of Blue River 
 Mission, Summit County, Colo. I was in Denver, 
 and the next day started on foot. I went by 
 Central City, and the first day out from there it 
 snowed four inches, which made it bad walking. 
 The second day reached Kenosha Hill, remarkably 
 tired. My purse of gold-dust was so light that I 
 feared there would not be enough to pay my bill. 
 I told the landlord that it was possible that my 
 means would not meet my expenses, but wished 
 to stay, and that I would remit to him. He said 
 that it would be all right, and the call for supper 
 soon came. When I sat down, I saw that the 
 food was all cold except a weak cup of tea. After 
 a few mouth fuls, I became sick and left the table, 
 and lay down on a bench in the bar-room and 
 rested, for I was almost given out. After half an 
 hour, another man came in for supper, and while 
 he was eating I went in for a drink of water, -and 
 saw hot coffee, ham, and eggs, I thought I would 
 
IN COLORADO. 141 
 
 never say anything about pay again until after 
 breakfast. I rested all night, and in the morning 
 ate a hearty breakfast, and gave the host my purse. 
 He weighed out my bill, and I had some left. 
 There were at lest twenty-five miles to walk, and 
 but one house. I took dinner and handed my 
 purse to the landlord, and he weighed my bill and 
 I crossed the range on a snow-path ; for, although 
 it was April, the snow was from five to fifteen feet 
 deep. 
 
 I reached Georgia Gulch on the second day of 
 April, and was received kindly. There were about 
 one hundred and fifty people in the Gulch, and I 
 found some few that had been members of some 
 Church. I gave out preaching for the next Sun- 
 day at ten and a-half o'clock, and at French Gulch 
 in the afternoon. The hall was well-filled in the 
 morning, and there were about forty hearers in the 
 afternoon. There was a friendly Jew at Georgia 
 Gulch, who proposed to raise the preacher some- 
 thing, and took a paper and collected $22.50 in 
 dust; for that was all the currency then. This 
 amount was quite a help, as there were only ten 
 cents in my purse when I got there. There was 
 an appropriation of one hundred and twenty-five 
 dollars from the conference. We had at first five 
 preaching-places for two weeks, and afterwards 
 more. 
 
 I saw that what I was likely to get in the new 
 wild country would not board me, as common 
 board was seven dollars a week, and a man had to 
 find his own bed, and do his own washing. I had 
 
142 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 a chance to buy a cabin in French Gulch or what 
 was then called Lincoln City, and I set up in a 
 humble way keeping bachelor's hall. My bed- 
 stead was made of pine poles, even to the springs. 
 The bed was hay, with blankets for covering. I 
 slept well, and rested as well as though I had been 
 in a fine parlor-chamber. My furniture was prim- 
 itive and limited a table, and a couple of boards 
 against the side of the wall for a cupboard, six 
 tin plates, half a set of knives and forks, with a 
 few other indispensables; a coffee-pot, a tin cup, 
 and a pot for boiling vegetables when I had 
 them and a frying-pan. As to a library, mine 
 had not crossed the plains; but we had a few 
 books to read the Bible, hymn-book, and Meth- 
 odist Discipline, with two of our weekly Advocates 
 and the Rocky Mountain News. I tried to keep 
 up with the times. 
 
 The compass of my circuit was not large. 
 The farthest appointment was six miles; and I 
 preached about seven times in two weeks. I 
 formed one class, and then discovered that there 
 was little profit in it, as the people stopped so 
 short a time in one place. I concluded to get 
 everybody out, and then preach the truth burning 
 hot, whether my hearers were in the house or 
 around the camp-fire, or, at other times, under 
 the shade of a pine-tree. We generally had 
 good congregations. The way we got them out 
 was to go along the gulches and tell the people in 
 their cabins and saloons where the preaching 
 would be at night, and then, just before the time, 
 
IN COLORADO. 143 
 
 to step to the door where they were at cards, and 
 say: "My friends, can't you close your game in 
 ten minutes, and come and hear preaching?" I 
 tried to adapt myself to the situation, neither 
 showing that I felt above anyone, nor ever com- 
 promising with sin or with transgressions, and being 
 ready always to speak for the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 We cooked by a fire-place, generally baking 
 our bread in a frying-pan set up before the fire. 
 I must not forget to say that we had stools and 
 benches in place of chairs. There was one chair 
 left in my house, made by some one out of crooked 
 pine-limbs, with the seat of ropes. It was so 
 comical that if I had it now, I would certainly 
 place it in an exposition. It was easy enough for 
 an editor. 
 
 I tried to make my cabin useful. It was about 
 eighteen feet square, and, taken every way, the 
 best place to hold our meetings. The floor was 
 hard ground. I got gunny-sacks and made carpet, 
 and covered the table with two copies of the North- 
 western Christian Advocate. And thus I preached 
 to the people in my own house, not in a hired 
 house, as the Apostle Paul did. 
 
 The first county officers had been elected the 
 fall previous, and the assessor refused to act, 
 and it was intimated that he was afraid that the 
 miners would not stand it to be assessed; so he, 
 with others, insisted that I should take the office 
 as deputy. I told them the office I held was all 
 I could attend to, and that I did not wish to take 
 the responsibility. But they were set on my 
 
144 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 doing the work, and I concluded to try. Only one 
 man resisted me, and I made him believe that he 
 was the best man I could get to help me, if there 
 was any resistance. He asked me to dinner, and 
 ever after was one of my warmest friends. When 
 I was through, I charged them fifty dollars, and got 
 it after two years; and it came in good time, as I 
 was then in a close place. 
 
 My appointments were Park City (Georgia 
 Gulch), American Gulch, Galena Gulch, Delaware 
 Flats, Gold Run, Lincoln City, Mayo Gulch, and 
 Breckenridge. It was a two weeks' circuit. I 
 preached once at least in Gibson Gulch, and I 
 must say that we had, without an exception, good 
 behavior and good attention. Although we all 
 looked rough, the miners treated me and the cause 
 of Christ with respect. Often after preaching I 
 was greeted warmly, and some of them would say 
 the service reminded them of home. They were 
 generally liberal, although it was not the custom 
 always to pass the hat, and sometimes the 
 preacher, when his pants began to wear out, would 
 think the boys rather long between collections. 
 It was common to give a dollar all around; and 
 to this day I would as soon ask miners for help, 
 with assurance of receiving, as any class of men I 
 have ever found. They were always ready to 
 divide, although at times they would take excep- 
 tions to a man that wore a plug hat or noticeably 
 fine clothes. 
 
 I made me a pair of snow-shoes, and, of 
 course, was not an expert. Sometimes I would 
 
IN COLORADO. 145 
 
 fall; and, on one occasion, as I was going down 
 the mountain to Gold Run, my shoes got crossed 
 in front as I was going very fast. A little pine- 
 tree was right in my course, and I could not turn, 
 and dare not encounter the tree with the shoes 
 crossed ; and so threw myself "into the ,snow, and 
 went in out of sight. 
 
 This was my regular round on the circuit. We 
 had a new field, one that gave a good chance to 
 read human nature, in the fastnesses of the Rocky 
 Mountains, where moral and religious restraints 
 were absent. The most of the men would go to 
 the bar and drink, and play at cards, and the Sab- 
 bath was a high day for wickedness. Balls were 
 the common amusement, especially in winter. 
 The women were as fond of this as the men. 
 Although far in the minority, they were accosted 
 like this: u Now, Miss, or Mistress, you must 
 surely come, as we can 't have a set or cotillion 
 without you." Often the father was left with the 
 children at home; at other times both went and 
 took the children; and then the old bachelors 
 would hold the baby so that the mother could 
 dance every set. 
 
 I will give an instance at Lincoln City, at our 
 hotel. They must give a Christmas dinner, and, of 
 course, a dance at night. I concluded to take din- 
 ner with them. The host made me no charge, as 
 it would be what we old bachelors called a square 
 meal. As I was about to leave, the ladies 
 pleasantly invited me to 'stay to the dance. Of 
 course I could not accept the invitation. But they 
 
 13 
 
146 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 said: u You visit at our houses, and you ought to 
 show us respect and stay.'' At the last came the 
 lady of the house, and said : " This is an extra oc- 
 casion, and it will be no harm for you to dance 
 with me; why can't you accept my offer?" The 
 reply was : " You 're a lady, but not quite hand- 
 some enough for me to dance with." She was 
 taken back at that, and the others laughed, and I 
 got out, as my cabin was only two hundred feet 
 away. They soon fiddled me to sleep. But they 
 danced till daylight, and often drank at the bar. 
 Being full, and having no place to sleep, they 
 went up to Walker's saloon. He made some hot 
 sling, and that set them off. They declared that 
 every man in town must get up, and the preacher 
 should treat the company or make a temperance 
 speech. It was just daylight when we heard them 
 on the street, and as they had always passed me 
 before, I turned the key and hoped they would do 
 so again. But when they found the door fast they 
 said : "If you don't open it we will break it in." 
 I threw it open and invited them in ; but they 
 said : " We have come to take you up to Walker's, 
 and you can either treat or make a temperance 
 speech." I requested them to let me eat break- 
 fast first; but they said: "You must go now." I 
 slipped out, leaving the door open, and went ahead 
 of the company. 
 
 Soon there were over forty men, and they called 
 a chairman or moderator ; but they were too drunk 
 to be moderated. I got upon a box and stated 
 my arrest, and proposed to make the speech. 
 
IN COLORADO. 147 
 
 They said: u Go on." I said: " Gentleman, first I 
 will tell you what I think! There is not a man 
 here but would be ashamed for his father, mother, 
 sisters, or brothers, to know just our condition 
 here this morning." They stamped and roared 
 out, "That's so," all over the house. u And 
 next," I continued, "if we were not so drunk, we 
 would not be here." (Cheers, " That 's so, too !" all 
 over the house.) "And if we were a little drunker, 
 we could not do as we are now doing." (Cheers 
 and "That's so!" all over the house.) I wound 
 up and was about to take leave, but the judge 
 said: "I move that we vote that every thing 
 Mr. Dyer has said is true;" and they gave a rous- 
 ing vote. He said, "The ayes have it," but that I 
 must not go yet ; and made and put a motion that 
 they all give Mr. Dyer one dollar apiece; and 
 that was also carried. They took the hat, got 
 twenty dollars, and I thanked them and went 
 home to breakfast. 
 
148 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SNOW-SHOES. 
 
 S all the mining was gulch or placer diggings, 
 a great part of the people left in the fall to 
 winter some for Denver, others for Canon City 
 or Colorado City, some crossing the Missouri 
 River with ox-teams. Only a few would come 
 back in the spring; for men did not come to 
 Pike's Peak as it was called to stay, but to 
 make a raise, and then go back. 
 
 In the summer of 1861 a troop of theatrical 
 performers came across to Summit County, and 
 played in all the camps Sunday morning at one 
 place, and in the evening at another. I thought 
 the devil was traveling the circuit as well as my- 
 self. I have thought less of theaters ever since. 
 There is little about them but evil. We had some 
 miners who would go to the dance or theaters. 
 
 But the best work done was a revival at 
 Gold Run, in the midst of winter. The snow 
 was about six feet deep. We concluded to hold a 
 protracted meeting at the above place, where we 
 had four members, and only about twenty-five 
 people, all told. From the first, the meetings were 
 interesting. Irrespective of denominations, all 
 began to work in earnest. Seventeen was the 
 average attendance, and about that number were 
 warmed up, reclaimed, or converted. We called it 
 
SNOW-SHOES. 
 
 149 
 
 a good revival on a small scale. A more enjoy- 
 able time I have seldom had. Among those 
 present were Dr. John McKaskill and wife, and 
 J. T. Lynch, the former of whom were in Kansas 
 the last I heard, and the latter in Utah. 
 
 In March, 1863, I received my appointment 
 from Kansas Conference. My work up to this 
 time had been as a supply. Through the presid- 
 ing elder, L. B. Dennis, I was readmitted. It was 
 a surprise, for I had not made up my mind to stay 
 in the mountains. This decided me to stand the 
 storms and leave the events with God, and do the 
 best I could to build up the Church in this wil- 
 derness country. I was put down for South Park, 
 and on the third day of April left Lincoln City 
 and stopped at Mr. Silverthorn's, in Breckenridge, 
 until about two o'clock in the morning, when I 
 took my carpet-sack, well filled, got on my snow- 
 shoes, and went up Blue River. The snow was 
 five feet deep. It might be asked, " Why start at 
 
 SNOW-SHOES AND STAFF. 
 
 two o'clock?" Because the snow would not bear 
 a man in daytime, even with snow-shoes. From 
 about two o'clock until nine or ten in the morning 
 was the only time a man could go ; and a horse 
 
150 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 could not go at all. When about three miles up 
 the Blue River, back of McCloud's, the wolves set 
 up a tremendous howling quite near. I was not 
 armed, but passed quietly along, and was not dis- 
 turbed. It was not likely, I thought, that the 
 good Lord would let anything disturb a man going 
 in the night to his appointment, although wolves 
 and bears, with some Rocky Mountain lions, were 
 numerous. 
 
 I reached Montgomery about nine o'clock in 
 the morning. The snow drifted above the tops 
 of the doors. All along the streets steps had been 
 made in the snow, and served as stairs to get into 
 the stores and houses. There were some two or 
 three hundred people in town, among them seven 
 members. I must mention Brother and Sister 
 Gurton, and Brother and Sister Fowler. I stayed 
 eight days, and held service each evening; on 
 Sunday twice. Two or three professed to be re- 
 claimed, and we all were revived. My circuit em- 
 braced the above, with Buckskin Joe, Mosquito, 
 Fair Play, and Tarryall. Buckskin Joe was so 
 called from the nickname given to a prospector 
 wearing a suit of that material. 
 
 Tarryall was discovered in 1860. Some very 
 rich claims were opened, and soon all were taken. 
 The news spread, and prospectors by the thousands 
 came, but with no chance to get a foot of ground ; 
 so they all tarried, and hence the name Tarry- 
 all. From there the prospectors went every way, 
 and some struck pay dirt in the Platte, and called 
 it Fair Play, as they claimed to be more liberal. 
 
SNOW-SHOES. 151 
 
 This was a two-weeks' circuit. Brother Wm. 
 Howbert was preacher in charge a part of 1860 
 and 1 86 1, and Brother Loyd in 1862, a part of the 
 year. 
 
 Mosquito got its name from this circumstance: 
 The miners met to organize. Several names were 
 suggested, but they disagreed, and a motion was 
 made to adjourn and meet again, the place for the 
 name to be left blank. When they came together 
 on appointment, the secretary opened the book, 
 and a large mosquito was mashed right in the 
 blank, showed it, and all agreed to call the district 
 Mosquito. 
 
 In addition to the above places, I went to Cal- 
 ifornia Gulch, as that place was not supplied. 
 
 Two Mexicans, called Bspanosa, who had be- 
 come enraged against the government of Colorado, 
 came from near Fort Garland, armed to kill as many 
 Americans as they could find. They struck Ar- 
 kansas River at Hard Scrabble, met Judge Bruce, 
 and shot and murdered him. Thence they went 
 north to Park County, and murdered Mr. Addle- 
 man, and from there to near the Kenosha House, 
 where they found two men camped and murdered 
 them. Next, about half-way between Fair Play 
 and Alma, they shot down and killed a Mr. Carter 
 in the road. Just after they had rifled his pockets 
 and taken his pistol and most of his clothes, Mr. 
 Metcalf came along with a wagon and oxen, 
 loaded with lumber. As he sat on the load, they 
 shot at him from a tree about seventy yards off, 
 and gave him a close call the ball striking right 
 
152 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 opposite his heart. But the ball struck a pamphlet 
 in his side pocket, and glanced so that it did not 
 hurt him. He of course halloed, and the oxen 
 took fright and ran. They shot again at him, but 
 missed him ; and as there was a house in a half mile, 
 he got clear of them. He was the first one that 
 got away from them to describe them. He said 
 they were negroes or men blackened. I suppose 
 he had never seen a Mexican. One of them had 
 a broad-rimmed white hat; and after he was 
 captured, and his hat brought in, Metcalf recog- 
 nized it as having been worn by the man who 
 shot at him. From the above place they went 
 east to the Red Hill crossing of the Denver road, 
 where any one could be seen coming from either 
 way. There they waited until two men came 
 along on their way from Denver to California 
 Gulch. They shot one dead, and it was supposed 
 wounded the other in the arm. He retreated down 
 the hill to the foot or level, where they caught him 
 and knocked a hole in his skull. This was the 
 last murder they committed. This was late in the 
 evening. The next morning the word came to 
 Fair Play that just over Red Hill there were 
 two men that had been murdered, lying by the 
 roadside. 
 
 At this time there were a few soldiers at Fair 
 Play. A number were sent to bring in the dead 
 bodies, and try, if possible, to capture the mur- 
 derers. Just as the soldiers passed the second 
 dead body, they saw a man coming on the road, 
 whom they at first thought to be a traveler. But 
 
SNOW-SHOES. 153 
 
 seeing them about the same time, and having 
 heard of the numerous murders on the road, he 
 thought they would surely kill him ; and dropping 
 his coat in the road, put out south. The soldiers 
 seeing him run, thought he was the man they 
 wanted, and so followed after him at full speed. 
 He, being a man in the prime of life and active, 
 especially on this occasion, made a good race. 
 The word came to Fair Play that they were after 
 the murderer, and another company started on 
 horses to try to head him off. But Mr. John 
 Foster for that was his name evaded them all. 
 At one time his pursuers were very close on him, 
 as he passed over a sharp ridge, but he got over 
 before they got quite to the top, and that gave him 
 a chance to turn his course and throw them off 
 his track. After running fifteen or twenty miles, 
 he reached Fair Play in his socks, without coat 
 or hat. As the people saw him in his plight, they 
 halloed: "There comes the murderer!" But I 
 recognized him, as he kept a "Methodist hotel" 
 in California Gulch, and kept in between them 
 and him until he got to the first house. The door 
 being open he went in, and it was some time be- 
 fore he could relate his feat, as he was very short 
 of breath and badly scared, and did not know till 
 then but it was the murderers that had been run- 
 ning him so close. After a while his pursuers 
 came, feeling mortified that he got away from them ; 
 but when the facts were known, they felt relieved, 
 for although they had been outrun, they had been 
 saved from killing an innocent man. 
 
154 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I shall not forget that week or ten days of in- 
 tense excitement. Everybody was alarmed. The 
 five murdered men were buried at Fair Play. The 
 sickening sight of the dead, and the thought, Who 
 would be the next? set the few inhabitants into 
 almost a panic. During the time, word came that 
 a man was harbored at a ranch some fifteen miles 
 east, and a company went over about night and 
 demanded him. The family would not let them 
 in. They guarded the house. There was a shot 
 fired from within which killed a mule. When day- 
 light appeared they gave the inmates just a few 
 minutes to surrender the man, under the alterna- 
 tive of having the house burned. They went in 
 and took the man, and made the ranchman give 
 property to the full value of the mule, and ordered 
 him to leave. They took the prisoner near to 
 Fair Play, and without trial or jury, hanged him, 
 although he denied being guilty of any crime for 
 which he deserved death. But poor Baxter had 
 fallen into the hands of hard men in an evil hour. 
 This was a mob, and nothing better ever comes 
 of such work. 
 
 But to return to the pursuit of the Mexicans. 
 The people started a company on their trail from 
 Red Hill. As they had two ponies, they were 
 easily trailed south, and finally were overtaken at 
 breakfast in the chaparral. The pursuers waited 
 for them to go out of the brush to get their ponies. 
 At last only one of them went out, and John said 
 to Joe: "Can you shoot him?" He said, "Yes;" 
 and with his deadly rifle, brought him to the 
 
SNOW-SHOES. 155 
 
 ground. The Mexican tried to shoot, but was not 
 able to do it. One of the avengers, whose brother 
 had been shot by them, craved the privilege to 
 finish the wounded man by shooting him in the 
 head. The other Mexican ran, and got upon a 
 pinnacle of rocks that hung almost over where 
 they were. While Mr. Lamb, who shot first, was 
 stooping over the dead Mexican, to see whether 
 he had shot him as he intended, the other Mexi- 
 can shot at him from the rocks, the ball passing 
 through his hat-rim, ranging down through his 
 clothes, but fortunately doing no harm. He then 
 made his escape back to near Fort Garland, but 
 was afraid to be seen. He got one of his nephews, 
 and they took up their residence in the mountains 
 for some time. They would come into the settle- 
 ments on the sly for provisions. A woman found 
 .out where they kept themselves, and told it. Mr. 
 Thomas Tobin took a company of five or six men, 
 and went in search of them. As there was a 
 bounty for their heads, both were shot the old 
 man falling dead in his tracks ; the young one, al- 
 though mortally wounded, running some distance 
 before he expired. That ended the Espanosa 
 trouble. What I have given was most of it done 
 on my route of travel, so I had a good oppor- 
 tunity to know the facts. It was a hard blow on 
 Park County. One mother yet lives to mourn the 
 loss of her son ; and sorrowful traces remain in 
 the memory of all the inhabitants. It was a most 
 daring and deplorable outrage. 
 
156 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COLORADO CONFERENCE. 
 
 "CURING the alarm occasioned by the murder- 
 <J ' ous raid of the Espanosas, I went around 
 my circuit once. I had been two years traveling 
 in the Rocky Mountains, and had carried no 
 weapons but a pocket-knife, and used that mostly 
 to cut shavings and my broiled meat. Some of 
 my friends advised me to arm myself, or to stop 
 for a time; but I could not see it. I told them I 
 would trust to getting along when the murderers 
 were not watching; and while they had got 
 weapons from every man they had killed, if they 
 got me they would find no pistol to add to their 
 arsenal. Firft, I did not have money to buy a 
 pistol; and, in the second place, I had been sent 
 there, and my appointments were out, and for two 
 years I had passed all sorts of men, and often 
 slept alone under the shelter of a pine-tree, when 
 I had reason to believe the Rocky Mountain lion 
 and the savage bear were my nearest neighbors, 
 and had never been molested. I felt that I was 
 still in the hands of that same God whom I tried 
 to serve; and that He who had kept me from 
 being a prey to the wild beasts, would keep me, 
 if it was best, from these unknown murderers. 
 
 So I started from Fair Play to Mosquito on 
 foot; and about half-way I saw the clotted blood 
 
COLORADO CONFERENCE. 157 
 
 of Mr. Carter, who had been shot in the road two 
 days before. I stayed at Fair Play two or three 
 days, where my exciting experience, above re- 
 cited, occurred. I filled all my appointments, 
 saw no danger, and was scared only once. As I 
 left Fair Play for Montgomery a slight fall of snow 
 made the pine-trees all white. A bush about five 
 feet high stood under the cover of a larger one, 
 and so had no snow on it. It showed dark on the 
 snow. Just as I passed where the Mexicans had 
 killed Mr. Carter and shot at Mr. Metcalf, I saw 
 the bush, and as it was partly hid behind the 
 body of the tree, it looked as though it might be a 
 man looking for a victim. While I was walking 
 in the road, and had my eye fixed intently on the 
 object, a prairie-dog, within three feet of me, at 
 the side of the road, gave a sudden bark. It was 
 so close and unexpected that I jumped as high 
 as I possibly could ; and right there had all 
 the fun to myself, as the dog had gone into his 
 hole. It made an impression on my mind that 
 will not be forgotten. What an alarm it would 
 have made if I had gone back, and said I had 
 seen a -man crouching behind a tree ! The mur- 
 derer had not been caught, and such a report 
 would have aroused the whole community. A 
 man should never allow himself to be mistaken, 
 and start a false alarm, especially at such times. 
 
 When this excitement finally died out, I 
 preached generally three times on Sunday., and 
 sometimes twice in the week, averaging four ser- 
 mons a week. Besides, I managed to have a little 
 
158 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 time week-days to work. Thus I got me a pony, 
 and concluded to prospect some in Pennsylvania 
 Gulch, which had been abandoned. There were 
 several cabins unoccupied. No one lived nearer 
 than two miles. I packed my blankets and pro- 
 visions, and took the boarding-house for a parson- 
 age, and worked as I could get time for three 
 weeks. Once during the time we had a week- 
 night meeting, and I rode back home through the 
 dark, and staked the pony out to grass. My 
 house was thirty-six feet long and fifteen feet 
 wide; had a door in one corner, and the chimney 
 in the opposite end. I felt my way to the fire- 
 place, lighted a match and set some pine leaves and 
 limbs in a blaze. There were six bedsteads along 
 one side of the house. The springs were pine 
 poles. All at once I heard something try to get 
 up through the poles. My first thought was that 
 it was a Rocky Mountain lion. I caught the 
 poker a stick four feet long and struck at it 
 twice, but failed to hit it. But when it got to the 
 end of the room it made for the door, and I took 
 it a back-handed lick and knocked its brains out, 
 and it went heels over head against the door. I 
 heard the quills rattle, and then knew that it was 
 a porcupine. 
 
 As I was not successful in mining, it was more 
 convenient to settle in Mosquito town. Very soon 
 I was notified that Bishop E. R. Ames would be 
 in Denver to organize us into a separate confer- 
 ence, and that closed my brief connection only 
 about four months with the Kansas Conference. 
 
COLORADO CONFERENCE. 159 
 
 In order that the reader may have a better 
 notion of our peculiar experiences among the 
 rough men of the frontier and mining camps, I 
 will here give a few instances: With Brother 
 Win. Antis I held a protracted meeting in a 
 mountain town for two weeks. During the time, 
 there was a ball that was wont to be called re- 
 spectable ; but a man that kept a house of ill-fame 
 went. One of the would-be leaders ordered him 
 away. He went home, and the next morning the 
 fellow who ordered him away took his gun, went 
 to his house and asked for him, and fatally shot 
 him as he rose up in bed. I took dinner at the 
 same restaurant, and sat opposite the murderer. 
 He ate but little, and every nerve trembled. He 
 skipped the country before night. 
 
 We had quite an attendance at the log church. 
 Some were reclaimed and some converted, not- 
 withstanding they had a dancing-school each 
 week, a ball as often, and a theater. 
 
 I visited many families. In one place the 
 parents were over forty years old ; a boy sixteen. 
 When inquiries were made as to their religious 
 experience, the woman said she belonged to the 
 Baptists. I assured her the preacher was glad to 
 see a member of any Church, and invited her to 
 help us ; but she replied that she could not, be- 
 cause she was taking her first lessons in dancing. 
 Poor woman ! In the spring she left son and hus- 
 band, and took up with another man. The danc- 
 ing-school referred to was the first institution of 
 learning I heard of in these mountains. 
 
160 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Jealousy was excited to such an extent by 
 these dances that separations were frequent; and 
 the women generally left, sometimes deserting 
 several children. I was in a small town one 
 morning, and there was a man whose distress was 
 apparent to all. On inquiry, we saw another man 
 with his wife, already seated in the stage. She 
 was leaving him alone, as there were no children. 
 He, however, got a seat in the same stage, and 
 went to Denver also. The dishonest wretch kept 
 her a few days and left her. But her husband 
 took her again, and went to the States. The 
 sequel is not known. 
 
 But there was another case in the same place, 
 where the woman did not fare so well. The 
 writer one Sunday was preaching, and was led to 
 speak against the evils so prevalent; among 
 others, of men persuading the wives of their 
 neighbors to go to the dance with them. I de- 
 scribed a case almost exactly that had occurred 
 the day before, but had no knowledge even of the 
 ball. The parties were all there, and of course 
 were mad, and almost ready to fight. The better 
 part thought I was too personal, so I apologized 
 like this : First, I knew nothing of such a thing 
 occurring so lately; and, in the next place, the 
 evils of dancing were such a curse to community 
 that no man could say too much against it, or 
 against the sin of creeping into their neighbors* 
 houses and leading silly women away from their 
 families and thereby destroying the peace of 
 the household. This case turned out thus: The 
 
COLORADO CONFERENCE. 161 
 
 woman left for Denver with a wretch in human 
 form. He kept her a few weeks and left her ; and 
 the poor thing was without friends, and, it was 
 said, died in a barn. The evils of balls will 
 never be revealed until the great day of accounts. 
 I used to say that the people must not expect 
 anything from a preacher but opposition to danc- 
 ing, since John the Baptist lost his head through 
 the flirtations of a silly girl. But I always felt 
 incapable of doing the subject justice. 
 
 14 
 
162 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 
 
 IN 1863 Bishop E. R. Ames organized in Den- 
 ver what we called the Rocky Mountain Con- 
 ference, now known as the Colorado Conference. 
 The bishop said he was opposed to organizing 
 with less than two districts, although there were 
 only about eight appointments. Oliver A. Willard 
 and W. B. Slaughter were the presiding elders, 
 and I was appointed to South Park, which em- 
 braced Park and Lake Counties and about twelve 
 members scattered over the whole work. 
 
 I had walked one hundred miles to be at the 
 conference, and returned on foot to my work, 
 without any missionary aid. The bishop preached 
 in the theater at Denver, and took up a col- 
 lection. He told the audience that he would 
 leave the money in the country among the 
 people ; so he divided it among needy preach- 
 ers. Out of $71.60 he gave me $20, which just 
 about paid my conference expenses. Mr. J. W. 
 Smith gave me a cabin, and I set to work to keep 
 bachelor's hall. Gulch-mining was the principal 
 dependence. The water failed in many places, 
 and there .being some excitement in Idaho and 
 Montana, about one-third of the people left for the 
 bonanzas. What members remained were so poor 
 that they could not get away. This was about 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 163 
 
 the state of the case with the parson. Winter 
 was approaching, and with what little could be 
 expected from collections and all I had on hand, 
 I had not more than half enough to carry me 
 through. I bought three sacks of flour at fifteen 
 dollars a sack, and had to trust Providence for 
 most of the rest. I preached four times a week. 
 
 About midwinter I found myself without 
 means, and so sought work, but could get none, 
 unless I would work on Sundays, which was out 
 of the question when necessary, except to prevent 
 actual starvation. 
 
 In the forepart of February, a man came to 
 me who had the contract to carry the mail from 
 Buckskin Joe to Cache Creek by Oro, California 
 Gulch, a distance of thirty-seven miles. He had 
 carried it as long as he could on a mule. It was 
 once a week, and he offered me eighteen dollars 
 a week to carry it on snow-shoes. I thought at 
 once: "I can preach about as often as I have been 
 doing, and am not obliged to go on Sunday." So 
 I took the mail, and crossed the Mosquito Range 
 every week, and preached three times a week. 
 
 Right here let me tell how I came out. This 
 was war-times, and the currency was greenbacks. 
 In California Gulch and Cache Creek they were 
 drifting out gold-dust all winter. Gold was on 
 the rise, so that an ounce of dust brought over 
 forty dollars in greenbacks, and so I added ex- 
 change to my business and became expressman, 
 and got the per cent agreed on. One man gave 
 me five dollars each time, and I carried all he had 
 
164 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 to send. At one time I had enough dust to bring 
 in Denver thirty-seven hundred dollars in currency. 
 Suffice it to say, I made over three times more ex- 
 pressing than my wages for mail-carrying. I 
 boarded myself, or paid my board, received forty 
 dollars on the circuit, and at the end of five 
 months, had twelve hundred dollars ; and a 
 Brother Fisher, who had three hundred dollars, 
 missionary aid at Colorado City, drew half, and 
 left for Kansas. Bishop Ames ordered Brother 
 Slaughter, the presiding elder, to pay me the re- 
 maining one hundred and fifty dollars. This was 
 the first year of my itinerancy that I made any 
 money. We had four quarterly meetings, but 
 sickness and stormy weather prevented the pre- 
 siding elder's attendance. No effort was made to 
 raise his salary, except when he attended. Brother 
 Slaughter was a good man, every way acceptable; 
 but his health was poor, and the country was al- 
 most too new and rough, and he left before the 
 next conference. 
 
 Now for some of the incidents in the mail- 
 service. The mail's weight was from twenty-three to 
 twenty-six pounds, with from five to seven pounds 
 of express matter. The carriage was on snow-shoes, 
 over an Indian trail that was covered from three 
 to twenty feet with snow. My snow r -shoes were of 
 the Norway style, from nine to eleven feet in 
 length, and ran well when the snow was just 
 right, but very heavy when they gathered snow. 
 I carried a pole to jar the sticking snow off. Suf- 
 fice it to say that the winter of 1863 and 1864 was 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 165 
 
 a remarkably hard one, and the spring held on 
 until June, with terrible snow-storms. I was the 
 first to cross the Mosquito Range with a horse. 
 That was the third day of July. I carried a 
 shovel, but did not have to use it. The mail- 
 bags went the trip across and back every week. 
 I had for two weeks a substitute. There was no 
 cabin from Mosquito to California Gulch, and no 
 one living between the Gulch and Cache Creek. 
 At first I had no company, say the first month. 
 After that I often went in the night, as it thawed 
 in the day so that it was impossible to travel, 
 and passengers sought to go with me. A man 
 came up from Denver, and we had a hard trip. 
 He begged me to stop. On top of the range he 
 lay down to sleep, and it was with difficulty that 
 I could get him up. I knew that if he went 
 to sleep, chilled as we were, he would never awake 
 until the judgment. We finally reached Oro City 
 at breakfast- time. That man was one of the 
 leaders of a mob that caused the death of a num- 
 ber of better men than he was. One of his vic- 
 tims was my son. 
 
 Again, I was coming over, and at the foot of the 
 pass, at the head of Evans Gulch, I overtook two 
 men. One, an old man, was given out. I saw at 
 once that it was death with him without a des- 
 perate effort. It was seven miles back, and farther 
 ahead, to a house, and the wind piercingly cold. 
 It seemed impossible to make him believe he could 
 walk either way. The snow and wind were blow- 
 ing so that a man could hardly stand. I deter- 
 
1 66 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 mined to get him over the range and down as far 
 as the timbers, and build a fire and keep him 
 from freezing. We told him what could be done, 
 and he would not even try to get on his feet. I 
 took hold of him, and when he was about half up 
 his hat blew off, and the last I saw of it it was 
 about thirty feet up, and the wind making sport 
 with it. He had on a soldier's overcoat, and as 
 the hat went off the cape blew over his head. 
 We tied it fast with a handerchief. He had taken 
 off one of his gloves, and it was so frozen he could 
 not get it on. I gave him a mitten, took his arm, 
 and got him about three hundred feet up the 
 mountain, and he sat down. I went back and got 
 the mail-sack and his and my snow-shoes. The snow 
 was so packed on the west side of the range that we 
 carried our shoes. I passed him three hundred feet, 
 laid them down, and went back and helped him up, 
 and when we got to the load, he sat down, and I 
 carried them as much further and helped him to 
 the top, which was a mile and a quarter, and said 
 to him : " Now you shall walk alone." He started, 
 and after going a few yards, he said: " Anybody 
 can walk down-hill." Suffice it to say, we all got 
 into Mosquito by nine o'clock. The old man's 
 fingers and ears were frosted a little. He was 
 going to Montana, and said, if he struck it big, 
 he would remember me. As I have never heard 
 from him, I suppose he had poor luck. 
 
 Again, there were three men one was Dr. 
 Hewett, a friend and acquaintance ; another a boy 
 about sixteen years old. As the men were not 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 167 
 
 used to such trips, I took pains to go slowly 
 until we reached the top of the range. The boy 
 complained of cold. I kept my course to the pass, 
 as it was in the night, by the slope of the mount- 
 ain, and stopped several times, and waited a little 
 until I could see or hear them coming. The boy 
 said he was cold, and they could take care of 
 themselves. We saw them no more, but thought 
 they were coming, as one of them had been over 
 before; but they lost the course, and the doctor 
 missed his footing and slid down the mountain 
 about three hundred feet, to a bench that had 
 caught considerable fresh snow, and enabled him 
 to stop. If he had gone twenty feet further, he 
 would have been carried five hundred feet to the 
 gorge below. His two companions stood just 
 where he started, and called loudly for him. He 
 heard them, but was unable to make them hear. 
 He shot off his pistol, and they succeeded in mak- 
 ing a connection, got safely to Bird's-eye Gulch, 
 followed that to the Arkansas River, and went 
 down below the mouth of California Gulch, and 
 next day at noon reached Oro City, hungry and 
 weary. 
 
 I was very uneasy. I arrived with my boy by 
 three o'clock, took a sleep, and, about one hour 
 before they got in, started with a man to the range, 
 to try, if possible, to find them ; for I feared some- 
 thing had befallen them. But we could not even 
 find their tracks, as the wind had covered them 
 w r ith snow. So I went back to Mosquito; heard 
 nothing of them, and told where they left me. 
 
1 68 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 The news got back to Denver. The friends of 
 one of them were preparing for a funeral, when 
 they heard, to their great joy, of their safety. 
 
 Another time, for some cause, the stage failed 
 for a week to come from Denver, and the next 
 time we had two weeks' mail, and four passengers 
 bound for California Gulch ; and we were obliged 
 to go mostly in the night, while the snow was 
 solid. At the hotel, while at dinner, the passen- 
 gers inquired for the mail-carrier, and I was pointed 
 out to them. One, an Irishman, said: "Is this 
 Mr. Dyer?" "Yes, sir." "Well, we are glad to 
 see you. We want to go over, and we would n't go 
 with anybody else, as we have been told you are 
 so well acquainted with the range." " Be assured 
 I am glad to have the company of four such strong 
 young men, as I have two sacks to take over; and 
 if you join together, it will be easy for you to carry 
 one, and I will guide you all safe over." He at 
 once stopped his blarney, but the others were will- 
 ing to accept the proposition; but as soon as din- 
 ner was over, the Irishman began to make fun of 
 his comrades; said he would not carry the mail, 
 and could go just as well as anybody, and that they 
 did not need a guide. In due time we all set out, 
 and he took the path ahead for three miles, until 
 he got to the crossing of the creek. He undertook 
 to cross on a pole, but fell, and came near falling 
 into the water. He got up, and started to find an- 
 other place to cross. We all crossed over safely, 
 and he had to come back to get over. By that 
 time we were ahead of him, and the trail was hard 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 169 
 
 to see. He got lost, and cried aloud. I answered 
 him, but we kept on, and when he came up he was 
 all in a sweat. There was a brother Irishman 
 along, who said: "Now you have got to carry this 
 mail-sack." He was willing enough. Just above 
 timber, we had about one mile of snow, say six 
 inches deep, and water under. He wore shoes, and 
 his feet got wet, and it was freezing cold. When 
 we got to the steep part of the mountain, he asked 
 me to wait until he could change his socks, as his 
 feet were wet. He made the change, and we had 
 gone but a short distance until he began to cry, 
 and said, he was a ruined man, that his feet were 
 frozen "Boo-hoo! boo-hoo!" and a little further 
 on he threw himself down on the snow, and said 
 he would not have come for a thousand dollars; 
 that his feet were ruined. He cried and prayed, 
 and said, if his friends only knew where he was 
 and how he suffered ! I told his comrade to pull 
 him up on his feet, and make him come along, or 
 he would perish. He took his hands, and raised 
 him, while he was crying like a boy of five years' 
 old, and said to him: "What the d 1 do you want 
 your friends to know? I do n't want mine to know 
 where I am!" and so he led the man who "could 
 go as well as anybody, without a guide." We got 
 over, and down to the nearest timber, and built a 
 fire. When he came up, his friend took his shoes 
 and socks off, and said: "Your feet are not hurt 
 they are as red as a turkey-gobbler's gills." The 
 poor fellow sobbed and cried clear across, with his 
 feet aching, but not frozen. We got both sacks 
 
 15 
 
170 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of mail through by three o' clock in the morning, 
 and felt pleased to have a sack carried ; and the mu- 
 sic, crossing the range, even yet prompts a smile. 
 
 We will close this account of our mail-service 
 by mentioning two or three lonely trips. Once, 
 leaving Mosquito at two o'clock in the morning 
 in a snow-storm, when near timber height, plod- 
 ding our way on deep snow, all of a sudden I felt 
 a jar, and the snow gave way under me, and a 
 noise struck my ear like a death-knell. I thought 
 it was a snow-slide, and turned as quickly as 
 possible up the mountain-side. About a hundred 
 and fifty feet ahead, I came to a crack six inches 
 wide, and the snow had settled about six inches. 
 It will easily be believed that I felt better on the 
 upper side of the break. A week after, there was 
 a snow-slide right from that break that filled the 
 gorge below. 
 
 At sunrise I was near the summit of the range, 
 very weary, and sat down under a large rock. I 
 looked through the snow-storm to the east. The 
 sun rose clear, but across South Park the wind 
 was furious and full of snow. The sun penetrated 
 the storm so that the wonders could be clearly 
 seen. While the wind was blowing the snow from 
 the north-west, there would small whirls start low 
 down, and rising, grow larger, until they would be 
 of enormous size. The main storm passed between 
 them as though they were not connected, even 
 as the mighty current flows past the whirlpool in 
 the water. Although my situation was very dis- 
 agreeable, I could stop a few minutes and gaze 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 
 
 171 
 
 at this astonishing Rocky Mountain scene, sitting 
 in the storm to watch its wondrous ways. 
 
 Soon after this I started earlier; but it proved 
 to be too much so, for when I reached the other 
 side of the range, there was snow for two miles, 
 and it would not quite bear me. Sometimes I 
 would go three steps and sink to the waist in the 
 snow, and then three steps before I could get on 
 
 CAMP-FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 top again. It made the situation very serious. 
 About midnight, after reflection, not fearing human 
 hands, and believing that the wild beasts would 
 have more good manners than to touch it, I set 
 up the mail-sack on end in the snow, and made 
 for the nearest timber off to the north, as I had 
 seen a small spot of bare ground there when I 
 passed before. But how to get there! Well, I 
 rolled and crawled until I reached the timber, 
 
172 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 where I pushed over a dry stump, and soon had a 
 fire to warm by. I had time for thanksgiving and 
 prayer, even if I had no supper. Cutting some 
 pine-boughs, I made a bed and took a sleep, and 
 it was daylight when I awoke. My first thought, 
 after thanking God that I was as safe there in his 
 hands as anywhere, was whether it had frozen so 
 that I could walk. I started, and had not gone 
 more than three steps when I went down to the 
 waist. I knew it was softer near the edge. I 
 crawled up and tried again, and it bore me. It 
 was hardly fair light when I reached the mail- 
 sack, found it just as I left it; the wolves had 
 discovered it and gone within about ten feet of it, 
 and had walked around it until they had beaten 
 quite a path in the snow, but never touched it. 
 It is worthy of note that the mail-carrier had an 
 appetite when.he reached Oro City ! 
 
 We come now to the last incident. I left Cal- 
 ifornia Gulch about the middle of March. It was 
 thawing, with alternate snow and sunshine, until 
 about one o'clock. The snow stuck to my shoes 
 so that traveling was very heavy. None but those 
 who have tried snow-shoes when the snow sticks 
 to them can understand how soon it will tire a 
 man down, knocking the snow off at every step. It 
 was so this time. When within a few hundred feet 
 of the pass at the head of Evans Gulch, I looked 
 to the north and saw a black cloud just coming 
 over. The wind that preceded it gave evidence 
 of its terror. No pen or tongue can describe its 
 awful appearance. I fastened and tied up my 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 173 
 
 neck and ears, and took its bearings with refer- 
 ence to my course up the mountain, about how it 
 would strike me, so that I might keep my course 
 in the snow. But when the storm struck me, I 
 could not have stood up had I not braced against 
 my snow-shoes, which I had taken off and held in 
 position for that purpose. J had thought I could 
 keep my course by the bearings of the storm, but 
 when it struck me, it was in a perfect whirl, and 
 I had nothing left but the shape of the mountains, 
 and by this time the snow was so dense that it 
 appeared to be a white wall within ten feet in any 
 direction. 
 
 I found myself unable to make more than 
 fifty yards before resting, and had to hold my 
 hand over my mouth and nose to keep the snow 
 out so that I could breathe, bracing with my 
 snow-shoes in order to stand. On the west side the 
 snow all blew off, so that I had to carry my shoes. 
 About the third stop, I came to a large rock, and 
 braced against it; and in the midst of the awful 
 surroundings, poured out my soul to God for help, 
 and felt encouraged to try, in his name, to make 
 the trip. I could not travel against the wind, so 
 I had to bear to the right, which brought me on 
 the range south of the old Indian trail, where 
 there was no way to get down without going over 
 a precipice. I hoped that the wind would abate, 
 so that I might make the trail. But I could not 
 see anything in the whirling snow. It took my 
 breath, and I concluded to retrace my steps; for I 
 felt that to stay there or go forward was equally 
 
174 
 
 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 to perish. I made a desperate effort, but started 
 east instead of west. I had gone scarcely three 
 rods when my foot slipped off the precipice. I 
 threw myself back in the snow. The air was so 
 
 thick with snow 
 that I could not 
 see how it was. 
 I could not tell 
 whether the pitch 
 was ten feet or 
 fifty. The cold 
 wind seemed to 
 be feeling for my 
 heart-strings, and 
 my only chance 
 for life was 
 to let myself go 
 over. I took my 
 long snow-shoes, 
 one under each 
 arm, holding the 
 crooked end in 
 each hand for 
 rudders, and be- 
 lieved that if I 
 could thus keep 
 my feet foremost, 
 I said, "O God, into thy 
 life, my all ; my 
 then, with com- 
 
 A FEARFUL DESCENT. 
 
 I could go down alive. 
 
 hands I commit my soul, my 
 
 faith looks up to thee ;" and 
 
 posure, I let go; and, as might be expected, there 
 
 was a great body of new, soft snow for me to fall 
 
A FEARFUL DESCENT. 
 " My feet were foremost, and I went at railroad speed." 
 
 Page 175. 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 175 
 
 in. I have never been certain how far it was. It 
 was soon over, and I was buried in six or eight 
 feet of new snow that had just blown over. My 
 heels struck the old snow, which must have 
 pitched at an angle of more than forty-five de- 
 grees, and my weight carried me, and according 
 to former desires, my feet were foremost, and I 
 went at railroad speed. My snow-shoes must 
 keep me straight. I was covered with snow from 
 the start. I raised my head so that I could 
 breathe, and when I had got near one-half mile, 
 I began to slack up, as I had passed the steepest 
 part, and soon stopped. 
 
 I now discovered that I was on the horse-shoe 
 flat between the range and the timber on Mosquito 
 Creek. I got up, but could not see ten feet, the 
 snow was so thick. But I knew if I kept down 
 the mountain, I would come out all right. Put- 
 ting on my snow-shoes, I soon came to timber. 
 The first tree was the top of a large pine, stand- 
 ing just at the foot of a precipice. It was well 
 that I saw it in time to turn my course. I took 
 down Mosquito Creek. The snow covered almost 
 all the willows and brush, and the wind pressed 
 me so that for rods there was no need of taking a 
 step. My shoes ran like skates. The snow be- 
 gan to abate, but darkness was closing in on me. 
 
 When I was within one mile of my cabin, I 
 saw a pool of water in the creek; and as I had 
 been fearful for some time that my feet were 
 frozen, I thought of Job when his sons had been out 
 frolicking ; he sacrified for them for fear they had 
 
176 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 sinned. But it looked rather rough to go in over 
 my boots in order to draw the frost out, when I 
 still had hopes that my feet were not frozen. I 
 reached my lonely cabin, started a fire, and my 
 feet began to hurt. I soon had them in the spring, 
 and held them awhile, but it was too late to cure. 
 I got my supper, but did not sleep much. Next 
 morning an old brother, whom everybody called 
 "Uncle Tommy Cummings," brought a little 
 balsam sapling, and we shaved off the bark, and 
 poulticed both of my feet. The third week I 
 was able to carry the mail. Half my toe-nails 
 sloughed off, with considerable of the skin. For 
 two weeks I was confined to the house, busying 
 myself reading and doctoring my feet. I sent to 
 H. A. W. Tabor, our store-keeper now ex- 
 senator and paid him sixteen cents a pound 
 for corn to make hominy, which I considered a 
 luxury. 
 
 Our provisions were all drawn over the plains 
 with teams of cattle, mules, and horses. We had 
 some sharp fellows that made a corner on flour 
 about this time, and the price was forty dollars 
 a sack. Fortunately, I had one sack on hand 
 in Buckskin Joe. My friends in California Gulch 
 were out, and wished me to supply them. I tried 
 to buy a pack-pony, but could only find a pack- 
 cow, which I purchased and packed, and tied to a 
 post while I ate breakfast. 
 
 An old friend, Mr. Moody, volunteered to help 
 me start. We tied a long rope around her horns 
 about the middle, and he took the lead, and I 
 
ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONFERENCE. 177 
 
 drove. The cow got on the war-path, and bawl- 
 ing, took after him on a down grade. He ran as 
 fast as he could, and I held as well as I could ; 
 and the cow jumped as high and as far as she 
 could. The old man did his best, and the old 
 cow would light right at him every jump. Finally 
 he took round the corner, and she after him. 
 Just then the cingle broke, and the pack-saddle 
 with the flour went down right behind her. 
 Then, lack-a-day ! she stopped, and did just as 
 cows do when they are about played out. 
 
 After this novel scene I gave up the idea of 
 trying to feed the hungry with temporal bread, 
 and confined myself to dispensing the bread of 
 life. Some ministers may say that the above was 
 hardly becoming ; but the alternative was, either 
 to leave the work and conference, or earn a living, 
 and I was not educated up to the point that a 
 man is justified in leaving if the people do not 
 pay a good salary. 
 
 There are many places now that need the 
 gospel, where there are more people than lived 
 on my circuit, and yet they are not supplied with 
 a preacher of any denomination, because so few 
 feel, "Woe is me if I preach not the gospel!" 
 and so many stand at the corners and say: "No 
 man hath hired me." 
 
178 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MORE ITINERATING. 
 
 I CONTINUED to carry the mail till August, 
 & and also acted as agent for the Rocky Mount- 
 ain News. On one occasion I had collected ten 
 dollars, and inclosed it in a letter, and had a 
 number of other letters in my pocket to put in 
 the office at Laurel or Buckskin Joe. I turned 
 over about one thousand dollars in dust to 
 the expressman, and mailed all the letters, save 
 the ten-dollar one, which fortunately I missed. 
 They started for Denver, and I for Breckenridge ; 
 but when they got to McLaughlin's Ranch, they 
 were met by six or seven men from Texas, who 
 claimed to be soldiers u Secesh," of course. Some 
 of them had been here before, and I suppose they 
 thought that if they were to commence hostilities, 
 the Southern element would fall in with them and 
 raid the country. They rode up to the stage, 
 cocked their pistols, and ordered a surrender. Of 
 course there was no resistance, and the Texas 
 roughs took possession, and with an ax cut spokes 
 out of the wagon-wheels, opened the mail-sack 
 and ransacked its contents, broke the express box, 
 and took dust and amalgam to the tune of two 
 thousand, more or less. 
 
 When Wm. Berry, who carried the mail from 
 Summit County, reached Hamilton, four miles 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 179 
 
 from there, some one told him of the robbery. 
 He had a lot of dust which he wisely hid in the 
 stable, and started ahead of them to Denver to 
 tell the news. They followed on to the Junction 
 House or near there, and camped where there was 
 a high peak, well adapted for a look-out. They 
 hoped to be joined by friends; but neither rebels 
 nor Union parties paid any attention to them. 
 The former were afraid, and so were the latter. 
 Finally they broke camp and marched west, stop- 
 ping for the night somewhere between Slatt's and 
 Georgia Gulch. A company of miners from Sum- 
 mit County came up with them just after they had 
 unsaddled their horses, and fired on them, killing 
 one and w r ounding another in the arm. They all 
 fled one of them mounted, the rest on foot. The 
 boys took the spoils, and but little of the money 
 was ever accounted for. 
 
 We heard of the robbery at Breckenridge the 
 same evening. In the morning I started for 
 South Park by Montgomery and Buckskin, and 
 reached Fair Play before night, thirty miles. They 
 had heard of the raiders being routed, and sup- 
 posed they would flee through the Park. Thirty- 
 five of us made up a company. By this time it 
 was dark. We had a wagon loaded with pro- 
 visions. The company crossed the Platte River 
 west of town on poles and piles of washed rocks, 
 tailings from sluicing for gold. It was rough and 
 in the night. When the roll was called, three 
 were missing. We reached the Platte River just 
 where Mr. Hartsell now lives, another twenty 
 
i8o SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 miles, and made for Hamilton. We disagreed 
 about the proper course to go for them, and I took 
 across the Red Hill to Fair Play. I got in at sun- 
 set, having walked about what was called eighty 
 miles in the two days, without sleep. This was my 
 entire experience in fighting rebels. The next day 
 was Sunday, and I got about twenty-five hearers 
 and tried to preach to them. 
 
 The rebels made their way south. One was 
 taken in a cabin between South Park and Canon 
 City, and the remainder at Mr. Toof's, at the 
 junction of Beaver Creek and the Arkansas River. 
 They had become hungry and called for breakfast. 
 They were at once recognized from the descrip- 
 tion as the mail-robbers ; and while their meals 
 were being prepared help was secured, and they 
 were surrounded and captured while eating. They 
 were turned over to some soldiers and taken to 
 Denver. After examination there, they were sent 
 to Fort Lyons for further trial. I saw them put in 
 the wagon at the door of the old jail in Denver, 
 well ironed. I noticed one of the guards next 
 them, Abe Williamson, who had been ordered to 
 give up the lines as stage-driver at Mclaughlin's. 
 They had said to him and Mr. Wm. McClelland 
 (expressman) : " We will run this institution." 
 As the wagon was starting, I said : " Abe, you 
 watch them." The reply was: "You bet." But 
 it is said that down somewhere north of where 
 Colorado Springs now stands, the prisoners tried 
 to break away. That was the last of them. 
 Those were times of war and excitement, not only 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 181 
 
 by secession but by Indians. Although we suf- 
 fered from the red -skins, we had no sympathy 
 from the East. The New Englanders seemed to 
 think that the Indians had as good a right to kill 
 us as the anarchists think they have to throw 
 dynamite among them. 
 
 This was near the close of the conference year. 
 I went to Denver, and on my way met Mr. 
 McClelland. He did not feel like running the 
 stage unless he could have a guard. He proposed 
 to sell, and we made arrangements. He turned 
 over the contract to me. I at once thought, 
 " How will you run this thing and preach on 
 a circuit?" and I answered: "I will get rid of 
 mail-carrying in three weeks, and be ready for 
 conference.'' Sure enough, I was satisfied that my 
 calling was the best thing for me, and the only 
 right course to pursue. During the time I paid 
 thirteen cents a pound for Missouri corn by the 
 sack in Denver. But I sold out, and was ready 
 for conference. Although I lost a house that cost 
 me $150, I cleared about $100 in the rounds. 
 
 This was a memorable summer. The Indians 
 were on the Plains, and there was no traveling 
 without guards, and no mail for almost three 
 months. When it did come, by the same mail I 
 received two letters from the States ; one had come 
 straight, the other around by San Francisco. 
 
 On one of my trips with the mail all Denver 
 was on a craze. The people were building a fort 
 out of town, but not so far out as where the center 
 now is. They had bought a log cabin, and were 
 
1 8a SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 raising it. I noticed that they had their gloves on 
 in warm weather. I laughed at Colonel Chiving- 
 ton, and said to him that a few old squaws would 
 upset the fort. He replied: " If you were not in 
 the mail service, and made light of and discouraged 
 our movements, you might find yourself in the 
 calaboose." But he could take a joke, and so I 
 had no prison-pen experience for my history. 
 
 It was to be expected that the people would 
 be alarmed, when just out on Running Creek there 
 were two families almost exterminated. One 
 woman, near to confinement, was ripped open, and 
 the child taken out, and the Hungate family 
 brought into Denver killed and mangled. Those 
 who have not seen such a sight do not know the 
 effect it would have on them. They would want 
 to be killing Indians or getting away at their best 
 speed. Of course, Colonel Chivington needed 
 only say to the boys in blue: ''Remember the 
 Hungate family!" and it made a Sand Creek 
 battle. 
 
 We saw these things in the light of self-de- 
 fense. While our Eastern friends would say, 
 " Poor Indian !" my own observations have been 
 that many of the whites were killed, while the 
 red man went free. When they killed Father 
 Meeker, with a number of others, and took his 
 w r ife and daughter prisoners, they were not 
 whipped, but got scared and left. Father Meeker 
 undertook to do them an act of Christian kind- 
 ness, but he went before they had been whipped. 
 It is impossible to have a sinner converted unless 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 183 
 
 he is first convicted ; and it is just as impossible 
 to tame and educate an Indian until he is sub- 
 dued. My prayer is that all wars may cease, and 
 that the red men of the forest may be civilized 
 and Christianized. When this is done, will there 
 not be cause for a jubilee ? May God hasten the 
 time! 
 
 This year was full of hard toil, both spiritual 
 and physical. One excitement followed another; 
 but out of all dangers, God, in his infinite mercy, 
 brought me safe to the end of another conference 
 year, which was unusually long about fifteen 
 months. 
 
 Bishop Clark was to preside in the summer of 
 1864; but, as stated above, the Indians had made 
 it impracticable, and the conference was put off 
 till fall. W. B. Slaughter, through ill-health, had 
 left the Southern District, and O. A. Willard had 
 not yet returned from the East. At the appointed 
 time we assembled at Denver. We consulted the 
 brethren, Colonel Chivington, Governor Evans, and 
 others, and it was considered best to go to Central 
 City, the place chosen to hold the session, and go 
 through with the business of the conference. This 
 we did, the writer acting as chairman in place of 
 the bishop, and B. T. Vincent being secretary. 
 We had a pleasant time, no conflict except over the 
 report of the Committee on the State of the Coun- 
 try. There were two reports one to stand by our 
 country, the other to stand by President Lincoln. 
 Brother Chivington was there, and spoke for the 
 Lincoln side. He spread himself, and made the 
 
184 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 strongest and most eloquent speech I ever heard 
 him make. But the other report was adopted; 
 there being no real difference in patriotism be- 
 tween the two. This closed the conference year, 
 1863-64. 
 
 A few reflections as to the past year. It had 
 five quarters. I was sent forth without any mis- 
 sionary help. It was not just. My good friend, 
 Bishop Ames, before I left, on parting, said: 
 " Brother Dyer, I hope you will do well in the 
 mountains. I am told you are highly esteemed 
 out there ; and it is well for you to know that you 
 are appreciated. It may do you good." It was a 
 desperate case; but I resolved to go and do what 
 I could, survive or perish. I received about forty 
 dollars from the work. When winter came I left 
 my pony on the range, in the valley, and took it 
 on foot and on snow-shoes, as above stated. The 
 result was, that when I settled up I had cleared 
 very nearly a thousand dollars. This I have re- 
 lated before, and recur to it here to show what can 
 be done even in forlorn hopes. As already stated, 
 I had left the States in debt, and with no way that 
 I could see, except God would especially help, 
 ever to pay out. The first thing was to put aside 
 about eight hundred dollars for this purpose. 
 Then I took three hundred, and bought eight 
 cows. W. L. Bailey kept them on shares, and I 
 paid no attention to them. But it was known 
 that Brother Dyer had some cattle. Soon I heard 
 that he owned a herd of cattle, and I found that if 
 a preacher in our Church had anything ahead, it 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 185 
 
 was only a detriment to him. It was used as an 
 excuse to give him a poor appointment ; and to ex- 
 cuse the people for not paying his salary. I con- 
 fess that I did not always feel very happy over 
 this, especially when so many abandoned the work 
 because of the scant pay, and so many others be- 
 cause there were not enough good appointments 
 to hold out.* 
 
 My short experience in the place of a bishop 
 Brother B. T. Vincent was the cabinet was satis- 
 factory, except as to my own and one other ap>- 
 pointment. From my personal knowledge, I 
 thought one brother ought to be moved; and 
 kindly told him so, and spoke of a better appoint- 
 ment. But he would not consent, because he 
 could not endure to have the news go back East 
 that he was moved the first year. So I returned 
 him ; and the result was a failure. 
 
 As to my own appointment: I was willing to 
 go to the southern part of the territory, and take 
 it as a circuit, instead of as a district. But I was 
 overruled. However, as I was alone Brother 
 Peter Smith having failed to report as a supply 
 I concluded that the name of district might stand, 
 
 * From my observation in a new country there has not 
 been equality enough in the division of our missionary 
 money. It is too often given where eight hundred dollars can 
 be raised on the work, while other places are neglected on the 
 outposts, where a little help would enable them to have a 
 preacher. Also, that it is a grand mistake to suppose that 
 preachers who can not sustain themselves East will succeed 
 on the frontier. Really there is no frontier; and Colorado 
 and the West require the best talent and consideration. 
 
 16 
 
i86 SNOW-SHOK ITINERANT. 
 
 but that I would travel it as circuit preacher. 
 Within its bounds were South Park, Oro City 
 which is L,eadville now Colorado City, Canon 
 City, Pueblo, and all south to Trinidad. The last 
 half of the year, Brother John Gilland preached 
 as a supply on the Oro City work, including all the 
 settlements to South Arkansas River. The Mission- 
 ary Committee allowed to Denver District twelve 
 hundred dollars, and to the other appointments 
 about the same as the year previous ; South Park 
 District five hundred dollars, and the presiding 
 elder was well satisfied. Our collection on the 
 work was about one hundred dollars. 
 
 From those who had traveled there, I was led 
 to feel that they ought to have the gospel in New 
 Mexico ; and now, as I had the opportunity, I con- 
 cluded to extend my district so as to include that 
 country. This was in the latter part of March, 
 1865, and the mountains were almost impassable. 
 Accordingly, I left Pueblo for Captain Craig's 
 Ranch, twenty miles on the road to Trinidad. I 
 called on the captain, and told him my name, and 
 that I was a Methodist preacher, and wished to 
 stay with him for the night. He replied: "Your 
 denomination doesn't stand very high with us at 
 this time ; but 'light." Notwithstanding his South- 
 ern proclivities, he was very pleasant; showed 
 me his fine improvements and ranch; gave me 
 the best he had; told his cook to put up a lunch, 
 as it was about sixty miles to the next settler. I 
 wished to go through, but it snowed hard, and the 
 roads were heavy. At the Pishapah Creek it was 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 187 
 
 dark. I could not see the road; had nothing for 
 the pony, and but little left of my lunch. So I 
 hitched up for the night, gathered some dead 
 brush, built a small fire, sat on the saddle, and 
 covered up with the saddle-blanket. ' It snowed 
 till it was nine inches deep. It was a good time 
 to reflect, for it was next to impossible to sleep. 
 Daylight came at last. I started on; but such a 
 snow to ball up on the horse's feet has not often 
 been seen. 
 
 At eleven, reached Mr. Gray's ranch, and was 
 kindly taken in and cared for. Next day, Sunday, 
 with his consent, I gathered in some neighbors, 
 and preached to about thirty, one-third Mexicans. 
 It continued so rough that I stayed till Tuesday 
 morning, and went two miles to Trinidad, where 
 I found a few Mexicans and one white family. I 
 stopped over night and talked to them who could 
 speak English. The Mexicans " no compre- 
 henda." The next day, with two gentlemen, I 
 crossed the Raton Mountain, and as they could 
 speak Spanish, I learned at least six Spanish 
 words, and all I could about the priests. It 
 seemed that the priests were a thrifty lot. They 
 would not marry the poorest couple for less than 
 sixteen dollars. 
 
 We saw the tracks of two footmen in the snow, 
 and soon met some folks who told us the footmen 
 were a Mexican man and woman running off to 
 get married. I thought now was my chance, and 
 told my companions that I could marry them. 
 One of the men rode on to overtake them. We 
 
1 88 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 came to the foot of the mountain where he had 
 corraled them on a bare spot of ground. All 
 things being ready, and my companion acting as 
 interpreter, I went through with the ceremony, 
 and gave my hand to the bride, wishing her much 
 happiness, and then to the groom. He took hold 
 with a mighty grip, and raised my hand and 
 kissed it on the back, and handed it to the bride, 
 and she kissed it too. No wonder I was taken 
 aback, as it was the first time I had ever been 
 saluted with a kiss on the back of my hand. 
 
 I wrote out a certificate in full, stating my 
 residence and Church, and my interpreter trans- 
 lated it into Spanish, with the names of the wit- 
 nesses, and we all felt happy. They asked what 
 was the charge. I thought of the old prophet 
 when his servant came back after following Naa- 
 man. It was no time to make charges, and I told 
 them I never charged poor people anything. 
 
 The next place of note was Maxwell's. He 
 had a large house and ranch, surrounded by Mex- 
 icans and Indians. I stayed with him over night. 
 I was used well, and entertained free of charge. 
 Got some information as to the settlements. He 
 told me there were several families down the Cim- 
 arron Creek, and advised me to visit them, as 
 they were Americans. It was Sunday morning. 
 I rode seven miles, and collected about twenty-five 
 people, and preached to them. This was the first 
 Protestant service ever held on the now famous 
 Maxwell Land Grant. And from here I made 
 toward Santa Fe, by way of Las Vegas. Found 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 189 
 
 but two or three Americans, but quite a village of 
 Mexicans. Passed through three Mexican towns 
 to San Jose, and reached Santa Fe. I found a 
 Baptist minister, the only Protestant preacher in 
 New Mexico. He introduced me to Judge Watts, 
 a very intelligent man. He took great pains to 
 inform me in every respect, and taught me some 
 of the usages of the Pueblo Indians. They had 
 been taught to read, but had degenerated, only 
 some eight or ten of them being able at that time 
 to read. 
 
 As Santa Fe was one of the oldest places in 
 the United States, when the Indians were whipped 
 and taken prisoners, the Romish priests baptized 
 them they not being able to resist. This was 
 missionary work. 
 
 Tradition said that Montezuma was born near 
 there in a large adobe building that I had passed 
 sixteen miles east; but others said it was in an 
 old building about as far north from Santa Fe. 
 The honor certainly belonged to one or the other 
 of these two places. 
 
 The Pueblo Indians raised stock and grain on 
 a small scale; lived in villages. Generally they 
 had one large house of adobe in the center, and 
 over one hundred feet square ; six or seven stories 
 high, each story not more than eight feet. Each 
 story was drawn in all around, say eight feet, ter- 
 racing the building to the top. Small square 
 windows were in each story, without glass or 
 shutters, and no door after the first story, a 
 ladder on the inside^ and a square hole in the 
 
190 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 corner with a lid to cover it, and this repeated to 
 the top story. I visited one, and made signs as 
 well as I could to be shown the inside. A young 
 man took me up the ladder, first on the outside of 
 the lower part, and then inside up to the fourth 
 story, and showed me that there were no more 
 ladders. In the third story there was a young 
 squaw sitting beside a flat rock, on which, with 
 another stone, she was rubbing corn to make meal. 
 This was the most simply constructed mill I ever 
 saw. The dusky miller seemed to think she was 
 competent for the task, and offered no apology, 
 either for the mill or her garb, although she was 
 not more than half covered with clothing. She 
 smiled pleasantly, and kept at her work. 
 
 This house was purely Pueblan; and was 
 originally designed for a fort or refuge in time of 
 war. My conclusion was, they needed Yankee 
 civilization as well as the gospel. 
 
 I was entertained over Sunday, and preached 
 for the only Protestant minister in all New Mex- 
 ico, to about forty hearers. The next day they 
 were to commence a new adobe roof on the house. 
 The contractor undertook to put a self-supporting 
 roof, and take out the posts that held the old one. 
 He got it completed, and they held a church meet- 
 ing Saturday evening, and announced Sunday 
 services; but in the morning the roof had fallen 
 in. It was in the night, and no one was hurt; 
 but the people were discouraged, and shortly after, 
 the preacher left for the East. I made my way 
 toward Taos. There were but few Americans ; 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 191 
 
 traveled one whole day without seeing a man that 
 I- could talk with. It was in time of Lent, and in 
 almost every village the people were doing pen- 
 ance. Some carried a joist sixteen feet long, two 
 inches thick, and twelve broad, with a piece of 
 scantling nailed across, the hind end dragging on 
 the ground. They were all sizes, down to those 
 small enough for children eight or ten years 
 old to carry. At one country church I saw a 
 dozen or more boys crossing a field, quite a num- 
 ber of women in company. They were heavy 
 laden, and one boy fell under the weight of his 
 cross. A woman ran and helped him up, and he 
 staggered on to the church, where they all threw 
 down their heavy crosses and went in. It was a 
 strange sight, and I was never more astonished 
 than to find that we had people in the United 
 States who were so low and heathenish. I was 
 more than two days among the cross-bearers. 
 
 Coming near a church, I saw three men stand- 
 ing in the road. One had a large cross on his 
 shoulder, and was naked, except a rag around his 
 hips and a green veil over his face. As he walked 
 with his heavy cross, he lashed his naked back 
 with a long-tailed cactus. The other two men 
 had each a little book, and one would suppose that 
 it might have been a ten-cent revival hymn-book. 
 At any rate, it looked as though they were singing 
 some kind of a dirge for the poor fellow carrying 
 the cross. I rode along-side of them, saw blood 
 on his back, and running down on the cloth that 
 was around his hips. I wondered if this was in 
 
192 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 place of a revival, as it was taking up the cross 
 and giving blood for their sins, and his two breth- 
 ren singing a penitential song. I passed on to 
 the church. There must have been a hundred 
 crosses laid up against the house, and as many 
 people as there were crosses. When the three 
 whom I had left came in sight, these began to 
 shout. One man had a large horse-fiddle. He 
 ran up on the church by means of a ladder, and 
 began to tune his fiddle. My horse was so badly 
 scared, and jumped so much farther than I thought 
 he could, that he came well-nigh landing me in 
 the cliurch-yard. But I gathered as he ran, and 
 went on. It was the first horse-fiddle I had heard 
 for forty years, and I trust will be the last. 
 
 Next came preparations for sleeping, which 
 were in the same room. Their cochones were 
 piled around the wall, and were made r^ady on 
 the floor, which was the ground, covered with 
 blankets in place of carpet. The cochone is what 
 we call a mattress. It is a foot through, of pure 
 wool, and well stitched. Although it was on the 
 floor, it was a grand relish to a weary traveler, and 
 I slept well with an old man whose looks in- 
 dicated a hundred years. I thought of what some 
 had said of a country where the people never died, 
 just dried up and blew away. I saw several that 
 looked as if they would never get away unless 
 they were blown away. I never slept with a man 
 that seemed so near eternity as this man. There 
 were three other beds in the same room. I awoke 
 early, and found my bedfellow was alive. After 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 193 
 
 that the first sensation was brought about by rub- 
 bing my eyes with the same fingers that had been 
 used at supper to dip the bread in the chilicolorow, 
 which was red pepper boiled with a piece of meat. 
 It seemed that sparks were coming out of them 
 thick. I thought it a good joke on me for not 
 washing my hands. I called for a fire to be made, 
 and the man told his wife to make it, which she 
 did at once. 
 
 We had much the same for breakfast as for 
 supper; and I rode twenty miles to Red River, 
 where I found an American. He had boiled pork 
 and potatoes; and if he did have a Mexican wife, 
 I called it a square meal. I overtook an old 
 Mexican with a blanket tied around his neck and 
 his bosom full of lambs, illustrating how lambs 
 were carried in patriarchal times. 
 
 The Mexicans were kind, and in the out-set- 
 tlements as a rule made no charge. They ex- 
 pected something, however. A few were half- 
 educated or half-Americanized, and they would 
 charge from three to four dollars a night. It 
 made me think that half an education was worse 
 than none. I called on one family, and they 
 seemed to take great pains, and soon had supper. 
 It consisted of good coffee, bread, a little tolay, 
 which was parched corn ground up and wet, and 
 chilicolorow. The provisions were set on a stool 
 in the center of the room. There were no chairs, 
 as they sit down flat when they eat. I looked 
 around, and the man noticed it, and folded up a 
 blanket for me to sit on. I sopped the bread in the 
 
 17 
 
194 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 chilicolorow, and it was very hot. The coffee was 
 good. I had to use my fingers, as there was 
 neither knife, spoon, fork, nor plate. Being hun- 
 gry, I took to the bread and soup, not being aware 
 of the meat at the bottom of the dish. When I 
 quit the woman came and put her fingers into the 
 soup and took up the meat, and offered it to me. 
 I thanked her. I might have taken it, but she 
 stood up above me, and it looked comical that I 
 should take it from between her fingers with 
 mine. But fingers were made before forks. 
 
 I inquired of the man if those Penitentes were 
 better than the rest of the nation; and found that 
 they were the worst cut- throats among them. 
 Their priests told them that they need not punish 
 themselves if they would behave. Not a year 
 passed but one or more killed himself. Serious 
 injury was a common thing. The severest punish- 
 ment was the most applauded, being considered 
 the most effectual. This heathen practice comes 
 from the Roman Catholic Church, as penance is 
 one of their seven sacraments. Of course it is 
 practiced among them to this day, but not so 
 publicly. 
 
 I learned this lesson, that the Roman Catholics 
 were reformed more by Protestants than by any 
 other means, in their schools and all other features 
 of civilization. As a proof: There has been more 
 improvement in the last twenty years in New 
 Mexico among the Romanists than for three hun- 
 dred years previous, when Catholicism had it all 
 its own way. Hence St. Paul's advice to provoke 
 
MORE ITINERATING. 195 
 
 each other to love and good works. By the grace 
 of God we are doing it. From all I could 
 learn, New Mexico was completely priest-ridden; 
 a wedding or a funeral was as bad as a fire. 
 
 I made my way back to Colorado. My pony 
 gave out, and I had to swap for a fresh one, and 
 had to pay as boot half the worth of either of 
 them. When I counted up, I was out about one 
 hundred dollars on the trip. 
 
196 SNOW-SHOK ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 
 
 TTTHIS summer, 1865, the conference was held 
 4- at Denver by Bishop Kingsley. The follow- 
 ing brethren were in attendance: O. A. Willard, 
 presiding elder of the Denver District; J. L,. Dyer, 
 South Park District; George Richardson, O. P. 
 McMains, B. T. Vincent, Wm. W. Baldwin, C. H. 
 Kirkbride, and Chas. King, besides John Gilland, 
 supply in Lake County, and Wm. Antis, in the 
 Denver District ten, all told. We had a pleasant 
 meeting. Near the close of the conference Rev. 
 George Murray appeared and was admitted. At 
 the close of the conference we made known to 
 Bishop Kingsley the condition of New Mexico, 
 and urged him to secure a suitable man, one who 
 could endure hardships, and who had other quali- 
 fications as a missionary, especially among the 
 Mexicans, as there were comparatively few Ameri- 
 cans. He listened with attention, and promised to 
 consider the matter and speak to the bishops. But 
 a man who could preach or teach the Spanish, and 
 whom they believed to be competent and trust- 
 worthy, could not be found. 
 
 The writer took the whole conference, with 
 the bishop, to a photographic artist and had 'their 
 likenesses taken, at a cost of twenty-five dollars. 
 He thinks more of the picture now than he ever 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 197 
 
 thought he would ; and is sorry that Brother 
 George Murray was not there in time to be photo- 
 graphed with the rest, as we were so long time 
 co-workers. He took charge of Colorado City, 
 Canon City, and Pueblo, with Florence, Beaver 
 Creek, and Fountain City in his circuit. The dis- 
 tricts remained as before, and no change was 
 made in the presiding eldership. Empire was 
 chosen for the seat of the next conference. 
 
 This year I kept the same head-quarters, and 
 preached in the mining camps whenever I could 
 spare time from the district. I also visited Sum- 
 mit County, as we had no single man, or man of 
 a family, suitable to take the work. It was hard 
 times, as the grasshoppers ate up everything in the 
 shape of garden stuff or crops; and it was about 
 as much as any of us could do to make a living. 
 Many of the people were so poor that the preacher 
 ought to have had something to give them. It 
 was not the custom to pass the hat every time we 
 came together. After service I met a man who 
 asked me about the congregation, and said that 
 if he had had a piece of money to throw in he 
 would have been there. When I told him that 
 there was no collection taken, he said that I was 
 behind the times ; for at Central they took the col- 
 lection every time in advance. 
 
 This was a year of affliction to me, as I had 
 two sons in the army. The youngest was back, 
 mimis one foot; and Joshua, my oldest son, the 
 last heard of him was that he was left at Wil- 
 mington. He had been sent, with others, from 
 
198 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Andersonville Prison in a starving condition, and 
 could go no farther. We could hear nothing from 
 him, and the supposition with me was that he was 
 dead. All we knew was that he was sick and al- 
 most starved. He was a young man with good 
 habits, the oldest of my family, and I had hoped 
 that he would be my comfort in coming years, if 
 God in his mercy saw fit to save my unprofitable 
 life. I was far separated from my children, and 
 often felt as though it would be a great joy to 
 have some of them where I could see them, and 
 take a rest and visit them. Nothing bu't a sense 
 of duty to God and the cause could have kept me 
 in Colorado. 
 
 In December, 1865, I made my arrangements, 
 and started for the States, to try to settle the facts 
 relative to my son. I came to Denver. The In- 
 dians were hostile on the Plains. No company 
 with a less number than forty armed men was 
 allowed to start. I bought a rifle and a navy- 
 revolver, some blankets for bedding, and got a 
 passage with a mule-train to Omaha. The mules 
 proved to be weak and worked down, and of course 
 made slow time. I made myself useful in taking 
 care of the sick till we reached Fort Kearney. 
 There we struck a man with a light carriage. I 
 made a bargain, and went with him to Ne- 
 braska City. 
 
 In due time we arrived. My baggage was laid 
 out of the wagon, and as I looked for help to get 
 it to the hotel, only a minute, my pistol was gone. 
 It was under a blanket, and some thief took it. I 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 199 
 
 made some inquiries, but got no clue to anything. 
 I was very unwell, as I had a desperate cold, and 
 was laid up for a day. Then I made my way to 
 near Fall City, where my brother Thomas and 
 family, with father and mother, had stopped on 
 their way to Missouri. There I rested. Thence 
 I went to St. Joseph, where I took the cars for 
 Quincy, Illinois, and went as far north as Leonora, 
 Minnesota, to see C. C. Streetor, my son-in-law. 
 No tidings had been heard of my son's wherea- 
 bouts. But in a few days a paper came from some 
 friend who had taken the names of all the soldiers 
 that had shipped on the steamship General Lyon, 
 from Wilmington, North Carolina, which was 
 blown up off Cape Hatteras, and all the crew and 
 passengers lost. His name and regiment, ist 
 Minnesota, were in the list. We may conjecture, 
 but all in vain it never will be known -just what 
 was the cause. Some murderer may have put an 
 explosive in the coal that caused the disaster. But 
 we shall have to wait till God calls on the great 
 deep to give up its dead; then all secrets shall be 
 made known. This affliction was a severe stroke 
 on us all, but we could only say: "Our Heavenly 
 Father, who knows best, has suffered it to be." 
 
 As I had never been east of Ohio, I concluded 
 to take the cars for Boston and New York. After 
 I had been in the latter place, and looked over 
 many of the sights, I went to the depot for Boston. 
 They were not ready to give tickets, and as I 
 stepped out, a man I suppose that he saw I was 
 somewhat green asked me where I was bound for. 
 
2oo SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I told him. He said he lived there, and was going 
 on the train, and that he was waiting for some silk 
 goods. Just then a man ran up, and they talked 
 a little. He went to settle the drayage, and offered 
 a draft. Of course they could not make change. 
 "Could you let me have five dollars till we can get 
 into the office?" I took out my pocket-book, and 
 he grabbed it, and slipped around the corner, and 
 that was the last of him. Just then I realized 
 that I was in New York City, and that he had 
 played the confidence game on me. There were 
 just two hundred and sixty dollars gone., I re- 
 ported, and hunted a policeman, but it was dark. 
 We heard nothing more of him. 
 
 Next day I went to the bank, and got a small 
 draft cashed ; and left with the belief that there 
 were more thieves in New York City than in any 
 other place in the country. It waked me up when 
 it was too late. I had been amused at the thought 
 that Peter Cartwright, D. D., had been fooled out 
 of some money in the same way ; but I felt more 
 serious on this occasion. 
 
 I took in Baltimore, Washington, and Phila- 
 delphia; visited Bishop Simpson, and had my fill 
 of the East in the short time that I spent there; 
 so that from that time on I never wanted to go 
 East, either to make a visit or acquire a home. I 
 returned by cars through Pittsburg, and, with but 
 little visiting, came to Atchison, where I took the 
 stage for Denver. My ticket cost one hundred 
 and twenty-five dollars, and meals one dollar and 
 fifty cents each. This was the latter part of 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 201 
 
 April, 1866. I visited in Illinois, Iowa, Ohio, and 
 Minnesota. This was the only vacation I ever 
 took; and have been almost all the time since in 
 Colorado and New Mexico. 
 
 I was soon on my work. The same day that 
 I reached Denver, Brother Willard left for Omaha. 
 I tried to preach at all my regular appointments 
 and at many of the mining-camps. There was a 
 great portion of my district among mining-camps 
 and new settlements. My lot was cast in a coun- 
 try where the people, most of them, had come to 
 make a raise financially, and then leave. On this 
 account it was almost impossible to keep up or- 
 ganized societies. Most of the work in the mines 
 was done in the summer, and in the fall most of 
 the miners would scatter. I resolved that they 
 should have a full gospel, and gave them the 
 words of Christ as to the condition of unforgiven 
 sinners and those who were determined to enjoy 
 the sinful pleasures of this world. 
 
 After faithfully preaching the truth, I was told 
 by many that I was behind the times; that Meth- 
 odist preachers had quit saying anything about 
 eternal punishment and the horrors of hell. I 
 thought that it was at least partly a slander, and that 
 I would tell them we had the same doctrines that 
 we had fifty years ago ; that the fault was in them ; 
 that when they were young they read the Gospel, 
 and it was preached faithfully ; that they believed 
 its truths and trembled ; but that they have re- 
 sisted its force and the Spirit's strivings till they 
 were hardened and brought to think the preachers 
 
202 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 have changed, when the change was in their own 
 hardened hearts. 
 
 But, after all that can be said, is not the asser- 
 tion too true of many Methodist preachers? They 
 smooth the word for fear of mortal man. And 
 in the revivals, instead of drawing the line like the 
 old prophet, and calling penitent sinners to the 
 altar for prayers, they say: "Just rise up where 
 you are." Where the terrors of the Book are 
 kept out of sight, convictions are slight and con- 
 versions not generally clear. In the Testament, 
 Christ describes the torments of hell and the 
 glories of heaven and eternal happiness. If there 
 is anything in the call to the ministry, it means 
 both; for the Lord said: "Go ye into all the 
 world, and preach the gospel to every creature ; 
 he that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved, 
 and he that believeth not shall be damned." This 
 is the call, and any preacher who leaves out half 
 is unfaithful to it; and if he does not believe fully 
 what Christ said, he himself is an apostate. 
 
 In the summer of 1866 Bishop Baker held our 
 conference at Empire. He was rather feeble in 
 health, and as he was in a high altitude when he 
 reached the seat of conference, he was paralyzed 
 so that his speech was much impaired. He was 
 not able to preach. Brother Charles King, preacher 
 in charge, treated him with the greatest care, and 
 the cabinet met in his room at the parsonage. I 
 was the only presiding elder, and acted as chair- 
 man for him, and went through the business. 
 Brother Baldwin went with others to his room to 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 203 
 
 be ordained elder, and, to relieve the bishop, I 
 went through the ritual service as far as to the 
 laying on of hands. At the close of the session 
 in the school-house, I read the appointments, and 
 we all left refreshed for our work. Brother King 
 conveyed the bishop to Denver, where he stayed 
 with Mr. Burton, an old acquaintance, till he was 
 able to take the stage across the Plains. I think 
 he never entirely recovered his former strength. 
 We love to remember him, for he was a man of 
 sterling qualities, and in his case we can say: 
 "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." 
 
 This year just closing was a period of hard 
 times. For several seasons the grasshoppers made 
 almost a famine among the farmers, and the mines 
 were not so productive as to make much excite- 
 ment. Such a state of things made it hard on the 
 people as well as on the preachers. None but 
 those who are acquainted with the rise and fall of 
 mining-camps can give any idea of this country 
 in its early days. This year Wm. M. Smith was 
 appointed presiding elder on the Denver District, 
 which embraced the best appointments; while 
 South Park District, to which I was appointed, 
 took the south and south-western parts of the 
 State, the most thinly settled. It embraced Sum- 
 mit County, and ran south and west to the line 
 of New Mexico. In all this region there were to 
 be only four preachers, viz. : Colorado City and 
 Canon City, George Murray; Dayton, supplied by 
 Brother John Gilland ; Pueblo, C. H. Kirkbride; 
 Buckskin and Summit, to be supplied. 
 
204 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 We arranged to hold quarterly meetings every 
 round at both places on Brother Murray's work, 
 as the two places were forty-five miles apart. 
 Formerly we had had about forty members on the 
 Buckskin charge; but now all except about eight 
 had left, and they were poor and discouraged. 
 After consulting the brethren, it seemed best that 
 I should make my home at Buckskin, and s'erve 
 that charge all the time that I had to spare from 
 the rest of the district. This I did, to the best of 
 my ability. On this part of my work, I preached 
 four times a week. 
 
 In traveling over the district, I visited many 
 places not included in any of the charges, and 
 preached to the people. After meeting they would 
 say, " This is the first preaching we have heard in 
 this country;" and some said, ( 'It is the first for 
 several years." This year I visited Fort Garland, 
 and found one company of soldiers, about one 
 hundred souls, and no chaplain. I asked the 
 captain if I might preach. He replied that a 
 chaplain had been there with Colonel Chivington, 
 and only succeeded in inducing five to hear him. 
 Not discouraged, I said: "Well, I am a bit of a 
 Methodist preacher, and if you will help me, I be- 
 lieve we can fill your room." He said he would 
 use his influence, and the preacher went around 
 and invited the people. At the time appointed, 
 nearly one hundred hearers were present, and only 
 one left before dismission. At the close the 
 captain came to me and said he would not have 
 believed, had he not seen it, that the boys could 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 205 
 
 have been kept still that long to hear preaching, 
 and that he was glad he had the service. 
 
 About four miles out from there lived Mr. 
 Thomas Tobin. He was a Missourian, and be- 
 longed to no Church. His wife was a Mexican 
 and a Roman Catholic. I obtained the privilege 
 of preaching at his house, and had about thirty 
 three-fourths half-breeds and Mexicans. I had 
 found that the Spanish always had the Americans 
 to translate the discourse to them. So I took the 
 text, " Repent ye, therefore, and be converted," 
 and contrasted our way with the Catholic's way ; 
 we confessing to Christ, and he forgiving us and 
 letting us know the blessed fact for ourselves and 
 not another. 
 
 I left an appointment to come again, but be- 
 fore I got- around, Father Machbeuf, now bishop, 
 who was the only colleague I had in that part of 
 the district, met Mr. Tobin, and made him prom- 
 ise not to let me preach at his house any more. 
 Tobin thought that this was hardly fair, for though 
 his folks belonged to them, he liked our way the 
 best. The priest taught that none but Catholic 
 clergy could solemnize marriage, or do any- 
 thing right. 
 
 At Saguache I found a small settlement, and 
 held a two days' meeting at the house of Mr. 
 Ashley, a family from Kentucky. They were Bap- 
 tists, and good people, but had hardly heard of a 
 Protestant preacher being in the country. They 
 kept me, and it seemed like home in the wilder- 
 ness. On Sunday the power of God came down, 
 
2o6 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 and nearly all were in tears. The lady of the 
 house broke out with a grand shout, the first ever 
 raised in the San Luis Valley. I called for seek- 
 ers ; three came, and two, I believe, were converted. 
 We had there a foreigner, I think of Jewish 
 descent. He sat near the door, and looked first 
 at the door, then at me, and then at the scene 
 among the seekers. A man by the name of Ful- 
 lerton, and a Mr. Woodson, who had Mexican 
 wines, were present. The former was reclaimed, 
 and I hear that he is preaching. I could but 
 thank God and take courage. It was about 
 twenty-five miles to any other settlement. The 
 men mentioned above lived neighbors, were farm- 
 ers, and had wheat and oats. A severe hail-storm 
 beat their crops into the ground. Indians were 
 more numerous than white men. Old Chief San 
 Juan came along, and expressed great sorrow at 
 their loss. For him it meant, no biscuits this 
 year. He said: " There is some good in it, but 
 we can 't see it. You must not complain, for the 
 Great Spirit has permitted it. If you complain 
 he might send the thunder and lightning, and 
 that would kill men, even as the hail had de- 
 stroyed their crops." The old man had never heard 
 a gospel sermon or seen a Bible, and believed 
 there was a happy hunting-ground beyond this 
 life. In order that his son, who had been killed, 
 might have plenty of horses in the happy hunting- 
 ground, he sent his braves, who shot about one 
 laundred and twenty-five head out of the herd. 
 Our Savior said: "I will send the Spirit, and he 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 207 
 
 shall enlighten every man that cometh into the 
 world." The old chief must have got his share. 
 
 From here we made our way to Poncha Pass, 
 the nearest settlement ; thence to California Gulch, 
 where Leadville now stands; and so across the 
 Mosquito Pass to Buckskin. I visited the South 
 Arkansas River, where two families had moved 
 six men, two women, and a little girl. They 
 were living in tents. The women said they must 
 have preaching that night. Meantime I con- 
 cluded to go up on the mountains, where the iron 
 mines are. The river was low, and I forded it. 
 But the day was warm, and the snow thawed so 
 that, when I got back in the afternoon, the river 
 was out of its banks. When I got into the main 
 stream, it was very rapid, and my Mexican horse 
 would not go in more than knee-deep. It was 
 near one hundred yards across. I called for help, 
 and the men came down and asked what they 
 could do. I had seen a new clothes-line at the 
 camp. They brought it, and tied a stone to one 
 end, and threw it to me. I tied it to the bridle ; 
 they pulled, and I whipped. The mustang had 
 not got more than the length of himself, till the 
 rushing water knocked his feet out from under him. 
 As he rolled over, I slipped off, and shoved him as 
 far as I could. They pulled, and brought him 
 angling across against a high bank. I thought it 
 was a good thing to know how to swim. They had 
 only brought him to the bank, when I swam in, and 
 ungirded the saddle. They had a big rope, and 
 threw it over his head ; then helped me up, and we 
 
2o8 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 all took hold, and pulled the pony out. He went 
 to eating grass as though his experience were an 
 every-day occurrence. I got dry clothes from my 
 saddle-bags, and set about drying up. 
 
 After supper, while I was sitting by the fire 
 barefooted, some one said it was time for the 
 preaching. I rose up, and began to sing one of 
 our old hymns. After prayer I took a text, and 
 preached them their first sermon, barefooted. This 
 was about two miles south-west of where Salida 
 now stands. From here there was no house for 
 fifty miles east, on the way to Canon City. South, 
 the first ranch Curber's was distant twenty-five 
 miles. West, so far as I knew, there was nothing 
 to the Pacific Ocean; north, up the Arkansas 
 River, twelve miles, to Brown's Creek settlement; 
 fifty-two miles to where Leadville now stands. 
 The country was thinly settled, and I preached 
 wherever a few could be got together. It was not 
 known then that I* had on my district what was 
 destined to* be the richest mining-camp in the 
 United States, if not in the world. 
 
 Nothing of much importance was done till fall. 
 We held a camp-meeting near where the town of 
 Alma now stands. It was the day of small things, 
 although, by altitude, it was the highest camp- 
 meeting ever held. There were three tents and a 
 wagon or two. We had only about eight members. 
 Brother Cummings, Brother Hubbart and wife, 
 were there, with others; Brother Bates and wife, 
 Baptists, and an old Presbyterian brother, all good 
 and true. Brother John Gilland, of Dayton 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 209 
 
 charge, Twin Lakes, was with us. We had a good 
 time in our social exercises, and enjoyed the op- 
 portunity of being together. Some came twelve 
 miles. Few know how we appreciated those sea- 
 sons, after our long exile among people taken up 
 with sin of every grade, none even to sympathize 
 with us and cheer us on our way. I have heard 
 since that Brother Hubbart's oldest daughter, now 
 the wife of Brother A. J. Smith, of our conference, 
 received her first impressions at this time; but 
 there were no conversions that I know of. Brother 
 Cummings and Brother Hubbart, I trust, are in 
 that better country, where congregations are large, 
 and never break up. I love to think of the few 
 with whom I shared privations, dangers, and re- 
 ligious joys in the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 It was my practice to go around the camps 
 and invite all to come and hear the word. I 
 would say to the boys at cards: " Can't yon get 
 through with your game in twenty minutes, stack 
 up your chips, and give us a hearing?" Fre- 
 quently they would all come; and they always 
 conducted themselves with propriety. Indeed, I 
 never found it otherwise in these mountains. 
 
 I tried to preach as often as four times a week 
 during this conference year, and, where we could, 
 three times on Sunday. About the first of 
 November, in the morning, I was at Buckskin; at 
 Montgomery 2.30 P. M., and at Breckenridge in 
 the evening. This was twenty miles, and across 
 the main range. Just as I got on top of the 
 Hoosier Pass it began to snow, and snowed so 
 
 18 
 
210 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 severely that, although I was on time, there was 
 no service at night. Next morning it had not 
 abated, and, for fear of being blocked in, I started 
 back with a little lawyer in company. 
 
 At Hoosier Gulch we rode into an empty cabin, 
 and started a fire. My partner's gloves were wet, 
 and his hands ached with cold. He made a face 
 ugly enough to shed tears. We started on, and I 
 loaned him my mittens, his gloves being unwear- 
 able, and went bare-handed. Suffice it to say, we 
 got down the mountain somehow to Montgomery, 
 and stopped with my old friend Mr. Ray. With 
 great labor we reached Buckskin, eight miles, be- 
 fore dinner. 
 
 Leaving my lawyer, I rode to Fair Play, as 
 there had been a trail broken, sent my horse to 
 Bayley's ranch, and, having made me a pair of 
 snow-shoes, concluded to go that way. I started 
 from the south bank of the Platte, at Fair Play, 
 on my shoes, supposing that I could stand walking 
 as in the past; but having ridden on horseback 
 all summer, I soon felt the effects of the change. 
 At six, I reached Platte crossing, and expected to 
 find a foot-log, but it had been washed away. 
 There were two crossings, ten rods apart. I started 
 down the creek. The snow had covered every- 
 thing; and as I passed over some willows, I broke 
 one of my shoes ; but got to the ford, and saw that 
 there was no way. to cross but by wading. It was 
 after dark. I sat down in the snow and took off 
 my boots and socks. The stream was running 
 full knee-deep of slush, and was about sixteen feet 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 211 
 
 wide. I waded across, wiped my feet as dry as I 
 could with my handkerchief, got my boots on, and 
 made four miles through the snow to Garro's Ranch. 
 I was tired out, and so hungry that I could have 
 eaten anything. My condition was anything but 
 enviable. But it was go or perish. The snow 
 was a little packed by the wind, which was on my 
 back, and helped me a little. I could make only 
 about one hundred feet before having to rest. I 
 was warm except my feet. I had one snow-shoe, 
 and could scrape the snow off the ground to make 
 a place to stamp my feet so that they should not 
 freeze. I got within a mile; stopped to rest. I 
 dug a trench in the snow long enough to lie in. 
 The wind blew the snow and the scales I had 
 knocked off over me, and it seemed like being 
 buried alive, the clods being shoveled in on the 
 coffin. I soon got out of that hole, and at last, 
 near eleven o'clock, steadied myself by the door- 
 knob with one hand, and rapped with the other. 
 Mr. Garro jumped out of bed with his revolver in 
 hand, ran up-stairs, hoisted the window, and cried 
 out: " Who's there?" The reply was: "It is Dyer." 
 He was astounded, and hurried down-stairs with- 
 out shooting, brought me in, and set me supper, 
 with hospitality so royal a king might envy it. 
 
 I remember yet how thankful I was to the 
 good Lord that I got in ; and how good that hay 
 bed felt, and how greatly refreshed I was the next 
 morning. Nothing but the grace of God, and 
 what little grit I had in me, ever got me through. 
 Mr. Garro saddled a pony, and sent his boy part 
 
212 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 way. Four miles out the snow was only six inches 
 deep ; and I got to Mr. Sam Hartsell's, where 
 he now lives, about one o'clock, ten miles distant. 
 He had just killed an antelope, and we had a good 
 dinner. He put up a lunch for me, as I expected 
 to reach the Thirty-nine-mile House that night. 
 The snow was not deep at Hartsell's ; but when 
 I got three 'miles up in the timber it was full knee- 
 deep again, and by the time I got within two 
 miles of the house I was well-nigh given out. I 
 saw a log and a dead pine-tree by it. The bark 
 was loose, and I concluded to camp. Soon had a 
 fire and my lunch ; rested and felt happy. I 
 scraped away the snow, put some bark down to 
 make my bed, lay down, and looked up at the 
 bright stars of heaven. They seemed to sparkle as 
 though they were laughing at me. I kept up the 
 fire, rested and slept a little, and was up and off by 
 daylight, reaching the Thirty-nine-mile House just 
 at breakfast time. The mail-carrier from Canon City 
 was there. He had come the day before, and 
 thought the snow was a sufficient excuse to go back. 
 I told him it might do for him, as he was working 
 for Uncle Sam ; but that I was ruled by a higher 
 Power. I gave him three dollars to let me ride 
 an extra horse he had with him back to Canon, as 
 that was the place of our quarterly meeting. 
 There I rested a day, was well cared for by the 
 brethren, and, after a good meeting, went home 
 with Uncle Jesse Frazier. O, what a good place 
 to stop ! Aunt Jesse would always make one feel 
 as if he were with his own mother. 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 213 
 
 From there I went down the Arkansas, calling 
 pastorally at many of the houses, preaching at 
 Beaver Creek and at Pueblo. At the latter place I 
 found Brother Kirkbride in not so agreeable a situ- 
 ation as I would have liked. He had been teaching 
 school ; and the two occupations did not work well 
 together, for he had forgotten to announce the 
 quarterly meeting. Fortunately I was there on 
 Friday, and so went around and invited the peo- 
 ple, and we had quite good congregations. I 
 took up a collection of fifteen dollars, and gave it 
 all to Brother Kirkbride. This was before the pre- 
 siding elder had his salary separate from the 
 preacher in charge. 
 
 From Pueblo I went up Fountain Creek to 
 Bannister's settlement, and gathered up about 
 thirty-five, and preached to them. Then I went 
 on to where Fountain City now stands, and 
 preached at Searles's ; thence to Colorado City, 
 where we had quarterly meeting with Brother 
 Murray. Here they made fifteen dollars or more, 
 and I turned almost all of it over to Brother Mur- 
 ray, as I knew he was in more need than I at that 
 time. Sister Murray took quite an interest in the 
 collection, and gave five dollars herself. When 
 we arranged it, she said she would not take so 
 much interest next time if she was to get it back. 
 It was hard times for money. Congregations 
 were small, and the preachers had as much as 
 they could do to come out even. We had a num- 
 ber of preachers come and go back because of the 
 work and pay. 
 
214 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 I concluded to return by way of Denver, and 
 took the stage in the evening. I hoped to find 
 congenial company, since it was an all-night ride. 
 But the passengers were two deeply colored dis- 
 charged soldiers. Adapting myself to the situa- 
 tion, I inquired where the gentlemen were from. 
 " Fort Union, New Mexico ; we been soldiers." 
 "Did you get your discharge?" "Yes, sar." 
 "Where are you bound for?" "Denver; to see 
 our uncle and kinsfolks." "Your native State?" 
 " Kentucky, sar." "What Church are you members 
 of?" One said he was a Baptist, and the other a 
 Methodist. This was good news. "Now, can't 
 you sing some of the old hymns that used to 
 make us happy ?" One said that if he had a book 
 he could, but he couldn 't "'membah." The other 
 said he could 'membah some, but he could not 
 read. I named several hyms, and finally one of 
 the soldiers struck up: 
 
 " How tedious and tasteless the hours, 
 When Jesus no longer I see." 
 
 We all sang with energy and spirit, hymn 
 after hymn. Following a hymn, one of them said : 
 " I 'sperienced religion twice under dat dah song." 
 We kept it up for seven or eight miles. After our 
 ten-o'clock supper I tried to have more singing, 
 but we all felt too drowsy. We reached Denver 
 about sunrise, entering on the east side of Cherry 
 Creek; but not striking Denver till we got to 
 Larimer Street that was all there was of the now 
 great city. 
 
SOUTH PARK DISTRICT. 215 
 
 After two or three days, I got to Buckskin, a 
 trip of four hundred miles. I caught some rides 
 out from Denver, where there was plenty of snow. 
 I had been gone three Sundays. 
 
 I spent the winter traveling on snow-shoes, 
 preaching on an average four times a week. I 
 had a cabin, which I called home, at Mosquito; 
 the post-office being called Sterling. I cut my 
 own wood, and had an old-fashioned fire-place to 
 sit by; a few books to read; a bedstead made of 
 poles, and a bed made of the tops of fir-trees, and 
 finished out with a hay tick a very comfortable 
 outfit. There was one window, containing six 
 panes of glass, ten by twelve inches, affording 
 plenty of light, except on stormy days, when it 
 was necessary to keep the door open, if the wind 
 would allow. I could enjoy the hospitality of 
 friends at my various appointments, but when I 
 got around I wanted some place that I could call 
 home. The above was my home, or answered 
 that purpose. How glad I was to get back, stand 
 my snow-shoes up against the house, strike up a 
 fire, sit down, and warm a little ; and then, if there 
 was not any bread to warm up, and satisfy my 
 hunger, to take flour and baking-powder, and make 
 a delicious cake ! I generally baked it in a frying- 
 pan before the fire. By the time it was baked, 
 the meat was fried, coffee boiled, and with a can 
 of fruit or some dried-apple sauce, the table was 
 set, and I was ready to thank God and eat! 
 
216 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 
 THE winter of 1866-67 was remarkable for snow 
 and its continuance in the spring until April. 
 
 Just six months from the former trip, I started 
 from Fair Play on my snow-shoes again ; this time 
 for Brown's Creek, in Lake County, by the salt- 
 works. The first house was Mr. Weston's, 
 twelve miles. His friends wished to send them 
 their mail, with some other little articles. He 
 could not go on snow-shoes, and so, with his 
 wife, he had been there all winter alone. The 
 sun thawed the snow so that it stuck, and made 
 heavy traveling. I had to wear a veil, to keep 
 from getting snow-blind, the dazzling light being 
 so intense ; but I got there to dinner all the same. 
 Mr. Weston was out splitting wood near the door, 
 and did not see me till I was close, and spoke. He 
 was taken by surprise ; but before I was within two 
 rods of him, he exclaimed: "Did you bring me 
 any tobacco?" I could not tell him, but ga.ve him 
 the package, and sure enough they had -sent a plug 
 of the dirty stuff. This shows that tobacco- 
 chewers think more of the weed than of their 
 victuals. 
 
 The next day I stopped with Mr. Charles Hall 
 at the salt-works, and preached. I found it bad 
 traveling, as the snow would not bear a man, and 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 217 
 
 it was almost impossible to run the shoes. When 
 I got down to Trout Creek, I met about seventy- 
 five Indians. They invited me to stay all night 
 with them. It was late; but I chose to stay alone, 
 and went two miles and camped by a log. I built 
 a fire, and slept some. In the morning I discov- 
 ered two Indian tepees within less than a hundred 
 yards. I suppose they had gone to sleep before 
 I camped. They proved to be quiet neighbors. 
 
 I met my friends, Brother Gilland's family, 
 G. Sprague and family, with others. We had 
 quarterly meeting, and went up to the hot springs, 
 since called the Haywood Springs, which I had 
 laid claim to by discovery. Thence I went to the 
 Twin Lakes. It was thawing, and I saw that 
 Lake Creek ran through the lake just as if it had 
 its regular banks. It had cut a channel through 
 the ice, and paid no attention to a lake of a mile 
 or two across, but just went in and through and 
 out as it pleased. This was a very hard trip, but 
 I was soon back to my cabin at Mosquito. 
 
 That spring May 2oth I took stage from 
 Fair Play to Denver. I got as far as Hamilton 
 just above Como all right. There were some 
 five passengers in all ; Mr. Cy. Hall the rich and 
 clever Denverite of to-day driver. I was in the 
 front seat. Mr. Hall said: "You sit back, and let 
 Billy Berry sit here ; he knows the road better than 
 any of us." It had already begun to snow, and 
 the old packed snow was about two feet deep. 
 The horses and sled sunk about six inches. It 
 snowed almost straight down, and was foggy. We 
 
 19 
 
218 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 had not gone more than a mile till we lost the 
 road. It was about four miles to Michigan Ranch, 
 and we traveled all day till near sundown. We 
 knew the creek ahead, and Tarryall Creek behind, 
 and a hill on each side, and in all this time never 
 saw either. It looked as though we were elected 
 to make a hotel of ourselves. Unexpectedly we 
 heard the report of a gun a mile away. We an- 
 swered with strong voices, and made toward the 
 sound. We got in about sundown, and stopped 
 for the night. 
 
 Next morning, before we got to Brubaker's 
 Ranch, crossing a slough, the water had begun to 
 nin under and over the snow. Right in the mid- 
 dle the horses went down, and the water almost 
 ran over them. It looked as though they would 
 drown. Mr. Hall got to the .first span, but most 
 of the passengers were a little sick just then. 
 However I worked out to the leaders, and kept 
 their heads out of the water until we got them 
 loose from the sled, in which sat three men quietly 
 looking on till we got all the horses out. We 
 took a long rope and tied to the tongue, hitched 
 the horses, and pulled out. We stopped at Hank 
 Farnham's to warm. I was wet to the waist with 
 snow-water. This was staging sledding, in fact 
 almost the last of May. 
 
 I have not seen the snow lie so long since. I 
 think settling a country changes it from its wild 
 nature, and from snow to more rain. I have tried 
 three States before this, and it was so in them, 
 and will be here. Occasionally we may have deep 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 219 
 
 snow and hard winters, but I trust that we will 
 be like the man who got married ; he said that 
 he made up his mind to take things as they came. 
 
 I kept up the work on circuit and district till 
 conference, which was held at Colorado City about 
 the 20th of June, 1867, by Bishop E. R. Ames. 
 There was a good society at the above place, in- 
 cluding many of whom I love to think as tried 
 friends Rev. Wm. Howbert and family, Brother 
 Gurtin and wife, Brother Templeton and family, 
 White Roberts, Brother Brown, Brother G. Mur- 
 ray, preacher in charge, with his wife, whom I 
 met on horseback, going forty-five miles to camp- 
 meeting. These and other hardy frontiersmen 
 ought ever to be remembered for their integrity 
 and perseverance, contending against drouth, grass- 
 hoppers, Indians, and the devil, six hundred miles 
 distant from the eastern settlements. They had 
 been a year or two in the gorges of the mountains 
 in search of gold, and had spent all they brought 
 across the Plains from their homes. Now they 
 had set themselves to making farms, which so far 
 as could be positively known, was as uncertain 
 work as prospecting. Four-fifths of all were 
 broken up or badly in debt. Such was the case 
 with myself. Surely the energy of these early 
 settlers made it possible for this to become a State, 
 with all its wonders of wealth, its telegraphs, 
 railroads, telephones, splendid cities, and the 
 boundless prospects of its future development. 
 
 These brethren at Colorado City determined to 
 build a chapel. We called it a Methodist church. 
 
220 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 In fact, it was as much credit to them as the 
 Lawrence Street church was to the people of 
 Denver. They expected to have it ready for the 
 session of the conference ; but after straining every 
 nerve, it was found impossible, at our quarterly 
 conference three weeks before, to finish the house 
 in time. We resolved to have a camp-meeting 
 near the village, under the shadow of Pike's Peak, 
 and hold the conference on the ground; and so 
 we gave it out. This was probably the first camp- 
 meeting in Colorado. Rev. George Murray was 
 preacher in charge, and the writer had charge of 
 the district. I was there two or three days in ad- 
 vance, and, with the neighbors, we erected a pulpit, 
 seated the ground, and had all things ready for a 
 camp-meeting conference. But the Cheyennes and 
 the Arapahoe Indians were on the war-path, and 
 the majority of the few members of the conference 
 were in the Denver district, a distance of seventy 
 miles. Thirty settlers armed themselves, and, 
 with Bishop Ames, made their appearance in due 
 time; and, notwithstanding a good old brother 
 was raising pickets around his store to fight the 
 Indians if they came, we were all happy and felt 
 secure, both soul and body. 
 
 Our conference was very harmonious; all the 
 regular business was carried on in the altar in 
 front of the stand. We had about ten tents. Pu- 
 eblo had one tent brought from a distance of forty- 
 five miles, and Brother Fowler, from Canon City, 
 had one from the same distance. Our preacher's 
 tent represented the whole territory. I must men- 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 221 
 
 tion the neighbors, or some of them : Brother and 
 Sister Garten, the latter, gone to glory. Brother 
 and Sister Brown had a little boy baptized by the 
 bishop in his full name. Brother Brown some- 
 time since died happy, and the evidences he gave 
 of the power of religion will not be forgotten by 
 his neighbors. Brother Howbert, a local preacher, 
 of precious memory, now gone to rest, was there, 
 as was also Brother Templeton and wife, with 
 others of equal worth. All were interested in the 
 proceedings of the conference. 
 
 I mention one incident in connection with this 
 conference. Brother McMains brought the bishop 
 from Denver in his carriage safe to the bank of the 
 Fontaine qui Bouille, a rapid stream. The bishop 
 cautiously took his carpet-sack in hand and crossed 
 on a foot-bridge, and as Brother McMains was ford- 
 ing the stream, his horse made a lurch and upset. 
 He lost his carpet-sack, with no other damage ex- 
 cept a wetting and the loss of a suit of clothes 
 and a flask of wine for sacramental purposes. We 
 made up his loss, at least in part. The carpet- 
 sack was found soon after, but the finder thought 
 it a good thing to drink the pure wine. 
 
 It was a pleasant meeting. The bishop en- 
 joyed his home on the ground, and the brethren 
 were pleased to entertain the conference. The 
 bishop's preaching was refreshing and helpful. 
 One day the friends got teams and took the whole 
 conference except the writer, who remained to 
 preach to see the sights in the Garden of the 
 Gods. It was a scene such as no Methodist con- 
 
222 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 ference bad ever beheld before, and which is still 
 admired by all travelers. After we had come to- 
 gether, Brother Smith told me that they had con- 
 cluded to send me to the General Conference, as 
 we were entitled to a delegate. I was surprised, 
 as I had but two preachers on my district that 
 had a vote, but thanked him for the intended 
 honor. At the proper time it was bestowed upon 
 me. Brother Smith, of the Denver District, was 
 elected alternate. 
 
 At the close of the conference, the bishop con- 
 cluded to take a trip with me around my district, 
 of which I give an account, substantially the 
 same as furnished by me for the Central Christian 
 Advocate, and printed in that paper in the early 
 part of 1880. Rev. George Richardson accom- 
 panied us. We procured a light wagon and camp- 
 ing equipage. I was the driver, and Brother 
 Richardson rode his gray pony and carried a gun. 
 The first day we reached Pueblo, a distance of 
 forty-five miles. We had the mountains on the 
 west of us with Pike's Peak in full view all day, 
 and on the east the vast plains inhabited only by 
 Indians, and they rather hostile. The bishop en- 
 joyed the wild and grand scenery, and made us 
 feel that we had no ordinary traveling companion. 
 He drew out of us, a little at a time, an account 
 of our early life and times. On our arrival at 
 Pueblo, word was given out that the bishop would 
 preach; and as he was the first bishop that had 
 visited that region, all came and heard with in- 
 terest. On Wednesday, we made our way to 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 223 
 
 Canon City, the time spent much as on the day 
 before, the snow-capped mountains towering up in 
 front of us, and I can say that forty-five miles was 
 never gone t over so pleasantly to me before. 
 
 Rev. George Murray, preacher in charge, had 
 gone from Colorado City to Canon City by the 
 Ute trail, and announced that the bishop would 
 preach there on Thursday at eleven o'clock v and 
 there was a good congregation, some having come 
 as far as ten miles. And Bishop Ames preached 
 a very forcible discourse. The morning was spent 
 in viewing the grand scenery, the irrigating ditches, 
 wheat-fields, and lastly, the town, which was some- 
 what dilapidated. There were several store-houses 
 for sale, and we raised the question as to our 
 ability to . buy one, and one was selected. The 
 bishop then asked us if we could buy it; we told 
 him the people were not able. He said: " If you 
 had five hundred dollars donated [that was one- 
 third the price], could you reach it? I will give 
 you that amount out of my own money, provided 
 that no part of the property sjiall ever be sold to 
 pay any part of the original debt." We agreed 
 to it, and Brother Murray began a subscription, 
 and was to report to us at Denver. His report 
 was favorable, and the bishop gave me a check 
 for five hundred dollars. It was a gift in time of 
 need; and if the contract has not been kept, it 
 was not my fault. It has all been sold, but I be- 
 lieve the greater part was applied to a neat church 
 in the place that is self-supporting. For years it 
 answered a good purpose; the store-room was 
 
224 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 seated for church, and rooms in the rear for par- 
 sonage. 
 
 After service we started, several persons es- 
 corting us several miles on to what was called 
 Devil's Gate, a passage between two large rocks. 
 The bishop spoke kindly of all the people and of 
 his host, T. Macon, Esq., and his family. We be- 
 gan to ascend the mountains, and that night 
 pitched our tent for the first time on Currant 
 Creek. On Friday we traveled all day, and 
 camped in the lower part of South Park. It was 
 a pleasant night ; we had supper and prayers, and 
 slept well. In the morning we ate our breakfast 
 on the ground, the whole company seeming to 
 enjoy the simple fare. A stretch of eight miles 
 of prairie gave us a good start, and we^were trot- 
 ting at fine speed, when we saw, some two miles to 
 the right of us, six armed Indians, riding at full 
 lope, and, from the appearance, intending to head 
 us off. The bishop inquired of me as to their ob- 
 ject, and he was assured they were friendly for 
 the Utes were friendly with us at that time and 
 that they would beg us for something. The 
 bishop directed Brother Richardson to take his 
 gun in hand and be ready for an emergency. But 
 as soon as they were within speaking distance 
 they lowered their guns and sung out at the top 
 of their voices, " How! how!" and called for bis- 
 cuit. We had none for them, and they soon fell 
 back and left us. A few miles further on we 
 passed through a camp of about fifty more of the 
 red-skins and as many ponies. 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 225 
 
 After dinner we rested an hour, expecting to 
 reach Cache Creek that day. But we had the* 
 Arkansas River to cross, and I will say just here 
 that in 1867 there was more snow in the mount- 
 ains, and it lay on later, and the mountain 
 streams were higher than they have been since or 
 for several years before. We soon reached the 
 river, and found the bridge there. It was made 
 of hewed logs, with rocks laid on the end of them 
 to hold them in place. The water passed just 
 clear of the stringers, but when a wave washed 
 under the bridge the water would burst through. 
 When safely over this most angry-looking river in 
 the world, the bishop remarked that if there was 
 any other way to get back he did not want to cross 
 that bridge again. That night it was swept away ; 
 we were the last to cross it. Fearing that we 
 might not reach the "diggings" at Cache Creek 
 that night, and as I knew a house one mile off the 
 road, they deputized me to get a loaf of bread. 
 When I returned to the road again, I saw a party 
 ahead with the same-sized wagon, and I followed 
 after them ; so we were parted for a few hours ; it 
 would be hard to tell whether they or I was the 
 most uneasy. But we came out right, and reached 
 Four Mile, a rapid stream without a bridge, and 
 we camped in company with Mr. Pitzer. Mount- 
 ain streams are always lower in the morning, as 
 the sun thaws the snow during the day. 
 
 This was Saturday evening, and the bishop 
 spoke as to the propriety of traveling on Sunday. 
 I said to him : " We have made an appointment 
 
226 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 for you at the Twin Lakes at two P. M. to-morrow, 
 and it is my rnle if I conld not make it on Satur- 
 day, I would finish it on Sunday." "Well," he 
 said, "I am under your care, and will leave it with 
 you." We forded the creek on horseback, and 
 concluded we could cross by doubling teams ; so 
 we hitched the wagons together, and had both span 
 of horses to the front wagon, and I rode one of the 
 leaders. The bishop sat in a cliair and held on to 
 a seat in front of him. The water ran into the 
 wagon and washed it down stream a little, but we 
 put every horse on his nerve, and by the blessing 
 of God we brought our valuable cargo through 
 safe. Passing down the stream a short distance, 
 I pointed put where Rev. Rufus Lumery was 
 drowned five years before. 
 
 We now began to ascend the Cache Creek hill. 
 It was very steep, dug into the side of the hill 
 with not a foot to spare on the outside, and the 
 roaring Arkansas River almost under us. Just as 
 we reached the top I pointed over and said: 
 " Bishop, there I was called on to attend a funeral, 
 the first in Colorado." He said: "You watch 
 those lines." (I thought it was as much as to say, 
 There might be another funeral.) 
 
 We soon drove up to Cache Creek, and the 
 people gave us such an invitation to stop that 
 the bishop asked why we could not; but our ap- 
 pointment had been sent to Twin Lake, and we 
 passed on. At Lake Creek the family there said it 
 would swim us ; there was a foot-bridge to cross 
 on, and I thought it would be crossed about a mile 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 227 
 
 above. The bishop hired our equipage carried over 
 while we were crossing the wagon. Both horses had 
 to swim, and it ran over the top of the wagon-box ; 
 but when I got back, our loading was adjusted and 
 we pushed on to Dayton at the lakes, the county 
 seat of Lake County. The bishop said he was sur- 
 prised to see so many out to hear the sermon ; 
 there were sixty in the log court-house. My son 
 Elias lived here, and the next morning he fur- 
 nished us with two cans of peaches and a quart of 
 cream for our dinner. 
 
 When we were taking our dinner the bishop 
 said it was a small b.ut delicious present, and he 
 appreciated the spirit in which it was given. The 
 same house in which he had preached was after- 
 ward carried six miles to Granite. 
 
 We were on our way to Ore City, or, as it was 
 commonly called, California Gulch, now the famous 
 Leadville, but we turned up north to Colorado 
 Gulch, six miles west, and stopped with Captain 
 Cree, and our company was well entertained. The 
 bishop went with the boys and saw them pan out 
 some of the pure dust, and he took care to say 
 that economy and prudence were of great value, 
 as they were blessed with the precious metal. 
 The 2d of July we turned east to the Arkansas 
 River, which was nearly a quarter of a mile wide ; 
 the main bed of the stream was bridged, being 
 covered with poles, rather loosely laid on. Bishop 
 Ames requested Brother Richardson to ride ahead 
 of the wagon, and when he reached the east end 
 of the bridge, his horse grew afraid, and that 
 
228 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 stopped us on the loose poles, the river running 
 at a terrible rate just under us. One of our ponies 
 slipped his hind-legs through the poles to the gam- 
 brel ; but strangely enough, got them out again, and 
 the driver gave a most unearthly yell for Brother 
 Richardson to get out of the way. We got out of 
 our dilemma, delighted and thankful to be safe 
 across. Brother Richardson and the bishop ac- 
 cused the driver of being angry when he halloed 
 so loud on the bridge ; but they were told that it 
 was a case where, if it needed thunder and light- 
 ning to make a move, it should have been put in. 
 Concluding not to go to Ore City, as it would 
 be several miles out of our way, we turned for 
 Weston's Pass to cross the mountain, as we were 
 now headed for Denver. Before we reached the 
 top of the range, the axle dragged in the snow, 
 and sometimes nearly up to the wagon-box. When 
 we had passed over the summit, we came to a drift 
 of snow six to ten feet deep, and it would not 
 bear us. We camped at timber-height, and the 
 query was, How shall we get over? The driver 
 proposed that we be contented, and in the morn- 
 ing it would be frozen, and we could go on the 
 top. The bishop took for his part of the work to 
 cut pine-boughs to make a soft bed for us. In 
 the morning we were up early, so as to get over 
 the snow before the sun softened it; we led the 
 horses, and pulled the wagon by hand till we got 
 within about fifty feet of the edge, when it went 
 down to the box. But we had a long rope, and 
 by the aid of this we pulled out with the horses. 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 229 
 
 We had no more snow to hinder us, and passed 
 through Fair Play on to Buckskin, and when we 
 came in sight of the dilapidated town, the bishop 
 asked if this was the place I had -made my head- 
 quarters. We answered: "Yes; but you may de- 
 pend upon it I would not have made it here. Why, 
 this is the place you appointed me to in 1863, to get 
 my support without aid from the Church. I walked 
 to Denver to get it, one hundred miles and back." 
 I had been telling him of taking a contract to 
 carry the mail on my back, and walking on snow- 
 shoes, and that I made more that way than I had 
 in all the time I had preached. He said, u I am 
 glad you do so well, and that you preached three 
 times a week, too;" and added that it was difficult 
 to know much of such a country without seeing it. 
 But I did not attach blame to him. Brother and 
 Sister Bates entertained us here. 
 
 On the Fourth of July we started for Denver. 
 Before we got to Tarry all Creek we heard that a 
 horse had been drowned in a crossing a few days 
 before. It was a small stream, was muddy and 
 rapid. The council said stop ; but the bishop took 
 off his coat and said if we were thrown out, there 
 were plenty of willows to catch hold of. We 
 crossed safely; and when asked why he was more 
 afraid of that creek than worse ones, he replied, 
 "Because it had a bad name." From here the 
 streams were bridged, the roads good, and we 
 passed along pleasantly until we reached Denver. 
 
 When we parted, after a day's rest, the bishop 
 said he thought we had had a pleasant and event- 
 
230 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 ful trip, and asked me if twenty-five dollars would 
 cover all the money we had spent, and he said he 
 would pay it to me. I will say that we had a 
 good time ; we enjoyed the bishop's company, and 
 have always felt thankful that he consented to go 
 round with us. I doubt whether any of our 
 bishops ever had a rougher or more romantic trip 
 in the States or Territories. He has gone, no 
 doubt, to rest from all his labors. We love to 
 think of all our associations with him. He gave 
 me more of my appointments than any other of 
 our bishops, and I always judged him to be a 
 balance-wheel in council with our bishops. 
 
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 
 
 7\ FEW days after conference, W. F. Warren 
 ^P- came, and was employed on the Fair Play 
 work. He did good service for a number of years, 
 and left for the California Conference, to improve 
 his wife's health. As Bishop Ames returned, he 
 met Brother Warren, and talked discouragingly to 
 him. But after several years, he saw Brother 
 Warren, and heard his report, and said that 
 he had feared it was a mistake in his coming, 
 but now saw that it was the Lord's doings. 
 Brother Warren has been remembered pleasantly 
 among us for his hard and faithful work in our 
 conference. 
 
 In the fall of this year, as we had no church 
 in South Park, and as Montgomery was almost 
 depopulated, while Fair Play, having been made the 
 county-seat of Park County, was improving a little, 
 I bought a building formerly used as a hotel in 
 Montgomery, designing to convert it into a meet- 
 ing-house in Fair Play. It was a hewed-log house, 
 two stories high. The windows had almost all 
 been broken out. Two men who had ox-teams, 
 agreed that if I would build, they would 
 haul the house on to the lot. I paid one hundred 
 dollars for the building, hired a man to help me 
 pull it down, paid my board, and got it ready. 
 
232 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 The teamsters went one trip, and would not go 
 again. They were not members of any Church. 
 We had but one member in the town, and he 
 worked by the day and job for a living. We were 
 in a close place. I looked for some one to haul 
 the stuff, and found a man who said it was worth 
 one hundred and twenty dollars, but that he would 
 do it for one hundred. When the job was done, 
 I gave him the money out of my own pocket. By 
 this time, Brother Warren and wife had come. I 
 found a part of the provision, and he and I went 
 to work. We were both log-house carpenters, and 
 with the days' works that were given, in one 
 month we had the building up and ready for use. 
 It was forty by twenty-five feet. We took off 
 fourteen feet on the rear, and that answered for a 
 parsonage till Brother Warren got one built. The 
 front would hold all the people in town. It was 
 comfortable, and no man paid over twenty dollars 
 in cash or work, save myself and Brother Warren. 
 Best of all, we dedicated it free of debt. 
 
 Before this I had done most of the preaching 
 in private houses and stores. Mr. Hitchcock had 
 often set out seats in his store for services. I re- 
 member at one time, early in the spring, the peo- 
 ple had gathered. They had arranged for ine to 
 stand in front of the end counter, and right above 
 was a sign: "Good Whisky." I saw the situation, 
 and said: "I never can preach under such a sign 
 as that." Mr. Hitchcock said: "Mr. Dyer, I will 
 take it down; the whisky is all gone." He pulled 
 it down, and I preached to about thirty people. 
 
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 233 
 
 This time I left Brother Warren a church to preach 
 and live in, and he was looking for a revival. He 
 asked me how many would be a good work in 
 Fair Play. The reply was: " Three would be a 
 good thing in that place." He said he could not 
 ask the Lord for less than twenty. But he did 
 not then know the Rocky Mountain sinners as well 
 as he did afterwards. 
 
 He worked earnestly there and around the cir- 
 cuit for a month, till we held our quarterly meet- 
 ing, which commenced with about twenty hearers. 
 There was no special revival; and while I was 
 gone, somebody reported that Brother Warren had 
 a lot of silver-ware that he had stolen from an old 
 widow woman down South, as he had been a sol- 
 dier. I took occasion when we had our largest 
 audience to speak of slander, and referred to the 
 lies somebody had raised about the silver spoons. 
 Of course I extolled the preacher for having been 
 a soldier, and having received an honorable dis- 
 charge. I happened to know how they came by 
 the five or six old silver spoons. Sister Warren 
 had fallen heir 'to them from an old grandmother 
 from England. "Such a lie," I said, u is a dis- 
 grace to your town, and so far as I am concerned, 
 if I knew who it was that started the slander, I 
 would run him clear to the head of Salt River." 
 I mention this to show how our early preachers 
 not only had hard times financially, but in other 
 respects. Brother Warren was a young preacher 
 of average pulpit ability, and untiring in labor. 
 The roughs went so far as to shave his horse. 
 
 20 
 
234 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Sister Warren was a patient, Christian woman, 
 and I believe was the first lady that ever made a 
 vocal prayer in Fair Play. Although it was a 
 hard place for a preacher, they stayed over two 
 years, and did good service. 
 
 The winter was now upon us. Our travel was 
 much the same as before related. One of our 
 quarterly meetings was held at what we called 
 Cottage Grove, half-way between Alma and Fair 
 Play. We had quite a turn-out for the times. I 
 agreed to make the coffee and find the sugar, if 
 the ladies would furnish the rest of the lunch. It 
 was a good dinner. I borrowed a wash-boiler, 
 dug a trench for a furnace, set on the boiler full 
 of water, pttt in the coffee in little sacks, made a 
 good fire under all, and gave a boy a quarter to 
 tend it while we were preaching and administer- 
 ing sacrament. It was ready when the benedic- 
 tion was pronounced. Our table was fifty feet 
 long. We had the credit of making good coffee. 
 After we were through, the collection was taken. 
 My old friends, Mr. Hotstettler and Mr. Bates, car- 
 ried the hats, and when they counted the money, 
 there were eighty-five dollars. They all felt well 
 over the amount. I never liked taking the col- 
 lection before the preaching was done ; but I hope 
 to be excused, because we only took it once a 
 quarter in old times, and that at a quarterly meet- 
 ing; and that even after James B. Finley or Peter 
 Cartwright had preached with their usual power. 
 But our later preachers think it best to take it 
 every time in advance. 
 
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 235 
 
 On one of my rounds I called at Fort Garland. 
 I had preached there before, and expected to do 
 so again. But now they had a chaplain. I called, 
 and introduced myself. He seemed pleased to see 
 me. I told him I had been there before, and had 
 all the soldiers to hear me, and would take it as a 
 favor to have another opportunity. But he thought 
 it would be impossible to get the soldiers together. 
 I told him how we did it before, but he made it 
 out impossible. I saw he was not willing to allow 
 me even to try. In our conversation he made it 
 plain that The Church had all the forts under their 
 care. He mentioned as a strange thing that, down 
 in Kansas, there was one Methodist chaplain. I 
 remarked that I had known two others who had 
 joined the Episcopalians to serve in that capacity, 
 but that we thought when they left we could well 
 spare them, and that where they went they would 
 be but little, if any, better off. I asked if he had 
 many to hear him. He claimed only moderate 
 congregations. From others I learned that two 
 and three were his usual number. I have had the 
 pleasure of extending the courtesies of my pulpit 
 to Roman Catholic priests and Episcopalian clergy- 
 men, but never have been permitted the use of any 
 of their places of worship. A few miles further on 
 I preached to six or eight hearers. 
 
 This was the year to take collections to pay 
 the expenses of the delegate to General Confer- 
 ence. Thirty-six dollars were paid to me. I was 
 anxious to see my parents and children and other 
 friends. I took stage at Denver City on the 
 
236 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 twenty-eighth day of March by the Smoky Hill 
 route. It began to snow as we left Denver, and by 
 the time we got to Kiowa it was blowing and drift- 
 ing so that we were obliged to stop for two nights ; 
 and cooked, ate, and slept in the hostler's room. 
 When we got off again, we had gone only two or 
 three miles when we ran into a snow-drift, and all 
 was fast. After the driver and conductor had 
 vainly tried to extricate the team, they most 
 humbly acted on my advice to unhitch the horses 
 and make the Kiowa stable horseback, leaving the 
 stage to be shoveled out the next day. The lead- 
 horse was a fine one. I unharnessed him, and 
 took the lead-strap. He made two or three long 
 jumps and was out. I got on and took a circle, 
 and got back to the road, and was at the stable 
 as quick as he could lope it. I had left the three 
 men with a horse apiece, and after awhile they 
 came. The next morning we took all the shovels 
 and got the stage out, and went on slowly, break- 
 ing our way through, having several times been 
 brought almost to a stand. 
 
 We took five days to go from Denver to Coyote. 
 We reached the latter place at 1.45 A. M.; called at 
 several tents, asking for some kind of a bed. At 
 last a man said, if I could sleep with two others in 
 a bed, I could come in. I lodged with them till about 
 daylight, when I discovered it was a saloon. He 
 charged me a dollar; and I found a restaurant, and 
 paid a dollar for breakfast. At eight o'clock I was 
 off on the train. I may be excused for this de- 
 scription, as I was the first delegate and the last 
 
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 237 
 
 delegate from the Colorado Conference who will 
 ever have such an experience. 
 
 I made but little stop till I got to my father's, 
 twenty miles south of Pleasant Hill, Mo., where he 
 and my brother had settled some time before. 
 Brother had died, and left his widow and children 
 with the old folks. While there, Sunday came, 
 and I tried to preach. Father, being hard of hear- 
 ing, did not go. A man asked in my presence if 
 the preacher was coming. I was pointed out, and 
 he replied, "I thought that was the old gentle- 
 man," meaning my father! After we got home, 
 father asked my sister how John preached. She 
 said that she had heard him do better. He re- 
 plied: "I suppose he is failing." I thought it 
 best for me to leave for some other parts, for I had 
 not thought of anything but being in the prime 
 of life, as I was twenty years before. 
 
 I went on to St. Louis; and from there made 
 my way to Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. 
 My daughter lived in Minnesota, and at Juda in 
 Wisconsin my son was keeping a drug-store. So 
 I had quite a visit, take it all around. I reached 
 Chicago the evening before the conference opened, 
 and stayed at the Sherman Hotel. I went to 
 Clark Street Church, where a full attendance of 
 delegates were shaking hands. I found nearly all 
 had been there the day before, and had selected 
 their seats. It looked as though all the seats 
 were occupied. I was quite near to the platform, 
 and remarked that if some good-looking delega- 
 tion would take me in I would be obliged. Brother 
 
238 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Baker, of an Eastern delegation, invited me, and 
 I felt at home with them. It was convenient, and 
 better than I could have done if I had been there 
 the day before. 
 
 I soon found that I was on all the committees, 
 or allowed to sit in many of them, as I was the 
 only delegate from my conference. I concluded 
 not to try to be conspicuous in conference, but to 
 attend every committee that I felt interested in ; 
 such as those on Boundaries of Conferences and 
 Indian Affairs. Some of our Eastern brethren 
 were going to take charge of the Indians in love, 
 neither watching nor coercing them. I gave the 
 committee my experience among them, and when 
 the report came before the conference I made an 
 effort to speak, but Brother Fisher, of Nevada, 
 got the floor. We had talked it all over; our ex- 
 perience had been the same. If I could have made 
 a speech on anything it would have been on the 
 red-skins, for I knew their treachery, and that the 
 time had not come to make bosom companions 
 of them. 
 
 Our bishops had been forming mission confer- 
 ences down South, and many of our best men 
 thought the delegates therefrom ought not to have 
 seats in conference. Others equally good thought 
 differently. Dr. Curry opposed them, and, with 
 others, made strong speeches. I feared at one 
 time that they would be rejected ; but Dr. McClin- 
 tock took up their case. He convinced me that 
 he was the most cultured man on the confer- 
 ence floor. He won the day, and the delegates, 
 
GENERAL CONFERENCE OF 1868. 239 
 
 although some were colored, were admitted. I had 
 been out on mission long enough to believe we 
 ought not to be kept out. 
 
 The next and most important thing was lay 
 delegation, which was hotly contested. Dr. Curry 
 made the strongest speech against the change, and 
 Dr. McClintock for it. I voted with the latter. 
 
 The next was boundaries of conferences. Our 
 conference was small in number; and I had been 
 doing all I could to induce our bishops to send 
 missionaries to New Mexico, as it belonged to our 
 country, and I had seen its degraded condition, re- 
 sulting from wearing the yoke of Catholicism 
 three hundred years. 
 
 I blocked out a map of Colorado Conference, 
 to include all of New Mexico and the southern 
 part of Wyoming Territory, feeling that they must 
 take the interest that they ought, particularly in 
 the Spanish work in New Mexico. 
 
 At the close of the session Bishop Simpson 
 asked me if we could have our conference two 
 weeks earlier, as about thirty Eastern members of 
 the General Conference had secured passes to the 
 end of the Union Pacific, and it would be pleasant 
 to go in company. I thought a moment, and said 
 to him: "That will give me time to hold one 
 quarterly meeting, and we have Brother Warren 
 to recommend to be admitted to our conference." 
 So he changed the time, and we had all in readi- 
 ness; and the session was held in Golden City, 
 Bishop Simpson presiding. 
 
240 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NEW MEXICO. 
 
 TT'THILB the bishop was writing the appoint- 
 V ments, I noticed he put me down for New 
 Mexico. He had inquired of me about that work 
 and the people; but the thought of going there 
 rather set me back. I felt my inability to do 
 what ought to be done in that mission, and gave 
 him my view in the matter; that a man for that 
 place should not be old, but one calculated to 
 take hold of the Spanish work and elevate those 
 who were starving for the gospel ; withal, an 
 educated man. I urged him, if possible, to send 
 such a man. He replied : " You preach to all 
 the Americans; do what you can, and see where 
 and how the Mexicans can be improved." 
 
 My name was read out for New Mexico District ; 
 and that year I took in Trinidad, being the first 
 Protestant who ever tried to preach there. This 
 appointment was not taken without at least some 
 knowledge of the labor, privation, and dangers at- 
 tending a Protestant preacher in that field. I had 
 already found that it was not Mexico, but New 
 Mexico, the outside or fag-ends of an old Latinized 
 nation, that had been ridden over by Romish 
 priests. Being the first discoverers of our Ameri- 
 can continent, their Church, I supposed, had lost 
 almost all but form and ceremony, and had been 
 
NEW MEXICO. 241 
 
 backsliding ever since. And I was going into 
 the most illiterate part, where the majority had 
 learned no law save what the priests taught them, 
 confession and mass, payment of a portion of 
 all they had or could raise to the Church; nothing 
 to elevate them to a higher state of civilization or 
 make them men and women in our nation. 
 
 But some of the better-to-do among the Spanish 
 had sent their boys East to be educated. The in- 
 habitants were scattered, and the early emigrants 
 from different parts of the United States had 
 married among the natives. Notwithstanding the 
 Romanists had generally proselyted the children, 
 the men held to their former attachment to home 
 and American institutions. We could depend on 
 most of them for help in all directions. They 
 were especially anxious for English schools to ed- 
 ucate their children. I saw that it was necessary, 
 as they were now one of our Territories. Kit 
 Carson was among the foremost in creating an in- 
 fluence among the natives in favor of our West- 
 ern States. Mr. Maxwell was also active. He 
 was an American, with a Mexican wife, and, by 
 long acquaintance and association, influential 
 among that people, and with the Indians. He 
 made Mountain Peak his western boundary. It 
 is almost a wonder that he stopped where he did, 
 as no others of equal prominence had yet come 
 West. He generally had whites, Spanish, and In- 
 dians on his claim, of which much has been said. 
 
 As to my appointment, after all it may have 
 been for the best, to take a man who was used to 
 
242 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 mountain life, who would ride a pony on an In- 
 dian trail, and feared nothing when conscious that 
 he was right, and had orders to march in the name 
 of Jesus. 
 
 My small amount of luggage was in Lake 
 County, such as books, bedding, and cabin outfit. 
 To go to New Mexico was to leave almost all that 
 I depended on for a living. I had one-half of the 
 Hayden Ranch on the Arkansas River, where I ex- 
 pected to make me a home and a fortune ; but the 
 land was not surveyed, and could only be held by 
 being on it or by representing it. I concluded to 
 deed it to my son, as there was no chance to sell 
 it. I was also the first claimant on the Haywood 
 Sulphur Hot Springs. I thought I would risk 
 them ; but while I was in New Mexico, an old 
 Georgia doctor came along and jumped my claim. 
 
 It only took a few days to pack a pony with 
 those things most needed, having another to ride. 
 Soon we were in marching order, going through 
 Poncha Pass and San Luis Valley; one house on 
 the route between South Arkansas River and Fort 
 Garland, seventy miles. 
 
 The first time going over into San Luis, I met 
 a number of Indians. I saw that they were all 
 mad ; and as I did not care to camp near them 
 they were strung along all the afternoon I trav- 
 eled till after dark and camped without any fire ; 
 took my lunch, -lariated the ponies on good grass, 
 and slept comfortably. In the morning I got 
 breakfast, as I had in my pack bread, crackers, 
 coffee, sugar, cheese, dried fruit, and ham, prepared 
 
NEW MEXICO. 243 
 
 to live anywhere. I met a man that day who 
 said the Indians were so mad they would not talk ; 
 that there had been a quarrel between them and 
 the whites at Saguache, and a company of soldiers 
 had gone up and settled the fuss. The Indians 
 had left mad. 
 
 On the second day I camped a short distance 
 from Fort Garland. I stopped over night at Cal- 
 avery. This was the last place in Colorado on my 
 trail. They announced me to preach, and about 
 ten Americans, and it being a new thing to hear 
 the strange padre about thirty Mexicans gathered 
 in the court-house, fifteen feet square, and a dirt 
 floor. Two or three prominent men helped to 
 sing, and one kneeled in prayer. There was good 
 attention, and toward the close the preacher waxed 
 warm, and several of the Mexican women wept 
 one so that it was noticed all over the house. A 
 young man who could talk both languages, went 
 home with the woman, and asked why she cried 
 so. She said she thought the strange preacher 
 had some friends that were lost, and he was plead- 
 ing for help, and she thought the man that kneeled 
 in prayer was engaged to help him, and she felt 
 so sorry that she could not help crying. (The 
 young man said to me at the close, "This looks 
 like a revival ;" and he learned the above and told 
 me next morning.) The Mexicans are a kind, 
 sympathetic people; will divide anything with 
 even a stranger, especially in the rural parts. 
 
 I will relate an incident that occurred as far 
 from civilization probably as any on record. Some 
 
244 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 fastidious people would not allow such a scene to 
 be described or written, but the facts are never 
 fully stated without the lowest and the highest. 
 I have no desire to burlesque these people, but to 
 help elevate them in every department of life to 
 experimental Christianity. It was for their salva- 
 tion through Christ Jesus that I was out there 
 among the sheep-herders. I had followed a trail 
 all day from Calavery till near time to camp, and 
 was looking out for wood, grass, and water. Soon 
 I saw smoke a mile ahead, and concluded to go 
 and stop with whomsoever it might be. I rode up. 
 There were two men and two women and a two- 
 year old boy. I asked partly by signs if I could 
 stop for the night. "Si! si!" that was u yes." 
 I got off, and put my ponies out. They had a half- 
 faced camp made of poles, and a fire out in front. 
 I camped on the outside or back of their fire. I 
 soon had my supper ready, and was hungry enough 
 to relish it. Their evening work was done, and 
 they were interested in me so much as to offer 
 me some new sheep-cheese. I thanked them, told 
 them I had cheese ; but, in kindness, they pressed 
 me to take some of theirs that had just been 
 made. I ate some of it, asking no questions. In 
 due time they retired to rest in their camp, and I 
 on my side of their fire. I rested well, notwith- 
 standing the bleating of the ewes and lambs, as 
 my bedding was sufficient to keep me comfortable, 
 even on the ground among the sage-brush. When 
 I awoke, they were all up. 
 
 As soon as possible I put my coffee on, and 
 
MEXICAN INDIANS. 
 'There were two men and two women and a two-year old boy." 
 
NEW MEXICO. 245 
 
 repaired two hundred feet to the corral to see the 
 men milking the ewes, as it was new to me. The 
 sheep were crowded so close that the ground could 
 not be seen. The men would push their feet in, 
 and press the bucket between them to the ground, 
 and milk. The bucket was well-nigh full. As I 
 watched the milking with growing interest, a 
 sheep discharged a quantity of sheep-saffron into 
 the milk. The man with his hand caught some 
 of it, but let the balance remain, and kept on 
 milking, and I kept wondering that the cheese 
 they gave me tasted as well as it did. While I 
 was preparing my breakfast, they brought in a 
 bucket of milk, and the woman set about straining 
 it through a piece of blue blanket, which seemed 
 to be very necessary, as there was a handful of 
 the digested grass caught. Just then the little 
 boy cried, and the other woman caught him up on 
 her hip, and walked around, and the little fellow 
 began to make quite a stream of water, and as she 
 turned, the stream came across the back of the 
 women straining the milk. As she was thinly 
 clad, it felt hot, and made her jump, and drop 
 the strainer with its contents in the milk again. 
 We thought it well that the stream did not reach 
 quite far enough to go in with the strainer. The 
 traveler was quite well instructed in the sheep- 
 cheese business. But there is still a wonder that 
 it tasted as well as it did. 
 
 We were soon ready to start, and must be out 
 one night more before reaching Elizabeth town, 
 where we expected to stop. I had quite a good 
 
246 SNOW-SHOE: ITINERANT. 
 
 Indian trail all day; but in order to have good 
 wood and water, I was after dark reaching camp. 
 Just at dark, I got on top of a timbered mount- 
 ain, and the shades of night, with the timber, 
 compelled me to light off my pony, and lead and feel 
 for the path. The big owls began to hoo ! hoo ! 
 and the wolves to howl as if there might be a 
 score of them close by. It was lonely. I thought 
 they might be scared ; but as a howl coming in 
 contact with a howl would lose its force, I started 
 the old long-meter tune to 
 
 " Show pity, Lord ; O Lord, forgive ; 
 Let a repenting sinner live." 
 
 I happened to strike the key just right, and the 
 hymn echoed from mountain to mountain, and 
 seemed to fill the woods. The owls stopped, and 
 the wolves shut their mouths. Daniel did but 
 little when he looked the lions out of countenance. 
 
 The next day I reached Elizabethtown, a min- 
 ing-camp of several hundred, mostly Americans. 
 Here I made my head-quarters for the year. I 
 held a meeting for two weeks; had one member 
 to help Brother Simon Tyrer. (I had preached 
 at his house in Wisconsin in 1851.) At the close 
 of the meeting, seven others joined, and the above 
 was class-leader, the first that I know of in New 
 Mexico. This year I preached at Trinidad, Red 
 River, Cimarron, Taos, Mora, Tipton, and Wal- 
 ters, and at Cherry Valley. Early in the spring 
 I went to Santa Fe, Las Vegas, and Tuckalota. 
 At Santa Fe I found Dr. McFarland, a Presby- 
 
NEW MEXICO. 247 
 
 terian preacher, with a small congregation. I 
 helped him about two weeks in a meeting, as he 
 was there teaching and preaching. I advised all 
 to join his Church. He thought there were about 
 twenty-five converts. One man obtained the bless- 
 ing while I was preaching. I mention this, as it 
 was the second occurrence of the kind I had known 
 in my ministry. 
 
 This year I selected the La Junta settlement 
 for a high-grade school, and made a request for 
 Rev. Thomas Harwood and wife to take charge of 
 the same ; but they deferred coming until 1869. 
 I have always thought it was providential that 
 they came. Bishop Ames failed to find a man, 
 and I was in great anxiety, with constant prayer 
 to God for help. I took down a coat that had 
 hung by the wall for months, and found an old 
 letter from Brother Harwood, saying he could not 
 come. But as I looked it over, it seemed to me 
 that if I would write again, he would change his 
 mind. I did so, and received the welcome news 
 that he would come ; and there was a warm greet- 
 ing and meeting. I had not seen a Methodist 
 preacher in New Mexico before. He took my 
 place, and I have reason to thank God that the 
 result has been so good. 
 
 During the year 1869 and 1870 I traveled al- 
 most all over New Mexico, making my home at 
 Santa Fe. I preached at Albuquerque, Socorro, and 
 Fort Craig. I fell in with a company of about 
 thirty prospectors many were rny acquaintances 
 at the crossing of the Rio Grande, seven miles 
 
248 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 below the above place. I had a hearty welcome 
 and two or three invitations to dinner, as they had 
 it messed out on the grass.. You would better 
 believe I was glad to overtake those whole-souled 
 miners. I had expected to cross the Hornatha 
 that is, the desert alone, but in addition to my 
 little outfit, they had plenty, and I was made wel- 
 come to all I wanted. 
 
 The Apache Indians were frequently on the 
 scout. If sighted by them, it was necessary to 
 outrun them, kill them, or get scalped. There 
 was a reach of ninety miles, with but one house, 
 and that guarded by about fifteen soldiers. Our 
 boys kept guard at night. At the Lone Rocks, 
 twenty miles above Fort Selden, the company 
 spread tent-cloths over two wagons, and I tried to 
 preach to them in that desert place, the very spot 
 where the Indians at various times had leaped out 
 from behind the rocks, and scalped the weary 
 traveler. This was a farewell to my hearers, as I 
 have never seen one of them since. We parted 
 at Fort Selden. They went into the mountains, 
 and discovered the mines at what is now Silver 
 City. They offered to bear my expenses if I 
 would go with them. But my expenses were paid 
 by the Church, and I had set my face to Las 
 Cruces, where I gathered about forty, and preached 
 to them. 
 
 The next day I went to Masea, and called on 
 a Mr. Jones, and was used with the greatest hos- 
 pitality. He took me around town to give out 
 my appointment for that evening. We entered 
 
NEW MEXICO. 249 
 
 many saloons, and he treated the crowd, and as 
 often asked me to drink. But as I always refused 
 such offers, I did so on this occasion. When he 
 had taken about the fourth dram, I said to him: 
 "We had better go home." He said: "Why?" 
 "Because I am afraid I will have to carry you." 
 He thought there was no danger. That evening 
 we got out forty or fifty to hear preaching, and 
 they all gave good attention, and requested me to 
 preach again. 
 
 From there I made my way to what is now 
 New El Paso, in the Corner of Texas, and preached 
 to about the entire American-speaking people 
 say thirty and visited El Paso in Old Mexico, and 
 ate of their delicious grapes and other fruits, in 
 that dilapidated old city. I saw but two or three 
 that spoke English. As I made my way back 
 across the prairie to Franklin, I overtook a cart 
 full of grapes, hauled by a burro. I was made 
 welcome to eat, and did so until we came to the 
 wine factory. A trough was filled with grapes, 
 and an old Mexican with his pants rolled up, and 
 his toe-nails large enough to scratch the contents 
 to pieces trod the wine-press alone. I could but 
 think, as I saw the wine run through the hole in 
 the trough behind the old man, " How many would 
 take a cup of that wine, and boast of its purity, 
 and lick thei* lips for more, if they could see how 
 it is made?" This was in September, 1869. 
 
 From there I returned to Masea a grand old 
 town for fruit and as I came up I stopped at 
 Fort Selden, and preached to the soldiers two 
 
250 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 companies, one of colored men, the other white. 
 They arranged seats at the liberty-pole; the col- 
 ored company took their seats near the preacher, the 
 whites stood afar off; but the preacher felt in the 
 spirit. The evening was fine, the full mocn arose 
 the largest that I had ever seen, it appeared to me 
 and the sound of God's truth echoed from valley 
 to mountains, and the people, black and white, 
 were attentive. Things were strange here. They 
 lariated their hogs by the nose, let the dogs run 
 loose, and grubbed their hay with a mattock by the 
 ton. But I paid my fare, say three dollars, and 
 left for the Hornatha again, with a Mexican mail- 
 carrier, and at night reached Jack Martin's, about 
 half-way. 
 
 At night I preached to the family, hired men, 
 and soldiers, in the plaza, by moonshine. At day- 
 light a messenger came with the news that the 
 mail-carrier from Fort Craig, that was to meet us, 
 had been killed by the Indians, which made a 
 lively excitement through the day. It was thought 
 dangerous to start ; but I told them if they were 
 killing men last night they would not likely be 
 there the next night, so now was the time to go ; 
 and by evening the carrier and myself started. 
 We rode until some time in the night, when the 
 Mexican must stop and take a nap. He slept, and 
 I watched. He had a pistol, and I had none. I 
 thought if the Indians came, I would take his 
 weapon and shoot till he waked up. But I had to 
 wake him. About sunrise we came to the spot 
 where the Mexican was killed. The blood had 
 
NEW MEXICO. 251 
 
 run profusely, but the body had been taken to a 
 Mexican town, on the east-side of the Rio Grande, 
 about seven miles from Fort Craig, and they were 
 preparing for the funeral. Here we learned that 
 it was a Mexican, who had a grudge against him, 
 that had killed him, and that the Indians were clear 
 of murder for once. 
 
 I got to Fort Craig safe, stopped for the day, 
 and preached in the evening to the soldiers. The 
 colored soldiers attended best, and made the fort 
 echo with two or three good old hymns. I preached 
 once between there and Socorro. Here there were 
 a few Protestant Mexicans. One old brother 
 seemed wonderfully rejoiced to see a Protestant 
 preacher. The day before, while riding alone, 
 along the sands of the Rio Grande, I became mel- 
 ancholy. The strange and almost desert country 
 oppressed me. I became restless, and could not 
 account for such feelings. Just at dark, after some 
 inquiry, I found a place to stop where they talked 
 English. The host, who was a generous Scotch- 
 man, showed me a room, and in a few moments 
 returned with a basket of fine grapes and peaches, 
 and bade me help myself. But my mind was so 
 distressed that, before I could eat of the fruit, I 
 took my hymn-book, and asked God, on my knees, 
 to show me a hymn that would give comfort or 
 duty. I opened the book to the hymn: 
 
 " Blow ye the trumpet, blow 
 The gladly solemn sound." 
 
 Somehow, in my condition, it gave duty and com- 
 fort. Next day I called all together and preached, 
 
252 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 and as there were several Mexicans there, and 
 they could not understand English, through an in- 
 terpreter I asked one of them to select a hymn, 
 and close the meeting in their own way, as they 
 had Spanish books. When he began to read, I 
 was told to turn to the hymn: 
 
 11 Blow ye the trumpet, blow." 
 
 I thought, Now I have it in Spanish as well. 
 After prayer, the old Mexican took my hand ; said 
 he could not understand English, but he knew my 
 preaching was in the right way. 
 
 From here, with but little delay, I made my 
 way to Santa Fe, where there were several letters 
 awaiting me. One gave the account of the death 
 of my mother, and it occurred on the same day I 
 had been so wonderfully distressed. I give this 
 circumstance as it occurred, and the reader can 
 draw his own conclusions as to the seemingly 
 singular coincidence. 
 
 After resting at Santa Fe, I visited Elizabeth- 
 town, Cimarron, Red River, and La Junta. Here 
 Mrs. Harwood commenced teaching, which re- 
 sulted in the elevation of many of the children in 
 the region round about. 
 
 March 7, 1870, I started for Fort Wingate. 
 After passing Albuquerque, I found no Ameri- 
 cans to speak of till I reached the fort, where 
 there were two companies of soldiers. They had 
 just received orders to go to Prescott, Arizona. 
 After preaching twice, Colonel Evans, in com- 
 mand, offered me a free passage with them to 
 
NEW MEXICO. 253 
 
 Arizona ; but after expressing my thanks to him 
 for his kind offer, I declined. I concluded instead 
 to go to Fort Defiance, just over the line in 
 Arizona, where I preached three times. Here I 
 found the Rev. Mr. Roberts, sent by the Presby- 
 terian Board, assisted by Miss Gaston, as teacher 
 among the Navajoe .Indians. The Navajoes were 
 more proverbial for stealing than killing people. 
 But the squaws' loom-made blankets were the 
 best known. The loom would not cost more than 
 seventy-five cents in work. They wove by draft 
 any figure given them, and silk neck-ties as well, 
 on the same loom. 
 
 Brother Roberts undertook to keep a few sheep. 
 He hired a boy to herd them. Some Indians 
 came by; one caught the boy, and held him, while 
 others caught two sheep, which made them a 
 feast. At another time they came at night, got a 
 ladder, and climbed on to the fourteen-foot wall 
 of the corral, and took the sheep over with a 
 lariat. Well, he sold his sheep, and went to farm- 
 ing. He planted corn, and as soon as the cob 
 formed on the stalk they pulled and ate his crop, 
 and he did not get even green corn. All this 
 time he was preparing to preach to them ; and, as 
 one would naturally suppose, his first text was, 
 " Thou shalt not steal." I have not learned his 
 success. This was the beginning, and we can 
 but desire the Navajoe tribe to become enlight- 
 ened and as perfect in religion as their squaws 
 were in weaving blankets and neck-ties. This 
 was the outside camp, as far as I could learn, 
 
254 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 that was accessible, unless I had gone with the 
 army. One year after, I was sorry I did not go, as 
 our Church had no preacher there. 
 
 My next trip from Santa Fe was about one 
 hundred and seventy miles south to Fort Stanton, 
 one hundred and six miles of the way without a 
 house. There was a mail carried once a week. I 
 was not there on the right day, but was told the 
 carrier went alone a part of the time, and I con- 
 cluded to try. It was forty-five miles to the first 
 water a spring on the side of a mountain. At an 
 hour, by sun, I reached a grave-yard, with some 
 half dozen graves ; but could find no water. As I 
 was looking for it, I saw a Mexican, with a keg of 
 the article most desired on a burro. He showed me 
 the path up to the spring, a mile from the camp- 
 ing-ground. After horse and rider had satisfied 
 themselves, I found ten or twelve Mexicans 
 camped at the foot of the mountain. I learned 
 that those who were buried there had been killed 
 by Indians. The campers were anxious for me to 
 stay; but I could not feel safe alone with them. 
 So I fed my horse all the corn I had with me, 
 ate my grub, and just at night started on a dim 
 road at a good speed, and went about twelve 
 miles and camped. I built a fire and tried to 
 sleep, but was too cold. After several efforts, I got 
 up, moved the fire, put in sand until it was tem- 
 pered about right, spread one blanket under and 
 the other over, took a good sleep, awoke, and found 
 my kind Preserver near. My danger and deliver- 
 ance had been greater than I knew. 
 
NEW MEXICO. 255 
 
 About ten o'clock I met four men, well armed, 
 who inquired whom I had seen. I told them of 
 the campers, and described the outfit. They said 
 it was well that I had left them, for some of them 
 were not too good to kill a man for the clothes he 
 wore, and that they had stolen cattle. I reached 
 Fort Stanton that day, about five o'clock; and as 
 I had no fire-arms, they asked me which way I 
 came. "Well, did you not see Indians ?" I told 
 them u no." "Well," pointing the way I had 
 come, " day before yesterday there were three 
 Apaches walking along on that hill and looking 
 down into the fort." The men I met brought 
 back the thieves and cattle. I was well-nigh 
 tired out after my long journey ; but I told them 
 my name and business, and they used me with 
 great hospitality. 
 
 As I visited among them, I found a man who 
 was living with a woman with a contract that they 
 should be married as soon as they could get a 
 preacher to tie the knot. I married them, and the 
 groom gave me ten dollars. After preaching to a 
 large turn-out, one of the captains got up an ex- 
 tra good dinner and invited me to dine with several 
 of the officers. 
 
 Next day I started for Ashland down the Rio 
 Benita. I stopped at a grist-mill, and preached to 
 eight Americans and two Mexicans. For fear of 
 Indians, they locked my horse up. in the mill, and 
 barred the doors of the cabin with timbers pre- 
 pared for that purpose. The next day I started 
 with a Mexican to Ashland. He -was armed ; but 
 
256 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 after we got a half mile from the mill, he kept 
 about one hundred yards behind, evidently afraid 
 to keep by my side. But we reached town with- 
 out trouble. Here they seemed glad to hear a 
 sermon. Word was sent around, and a mixed 
 congregation came together to the number of 
 forty-five. At the close, a collector stood at the 
 door and received gifts to the amount of thirteen 
 dollars for me. 
 
 Next day, Monday, I went with some cattle- 
 herders to their camp, and preached to five; and 
 the day following I got to Boska Grande, where 
 I preached to about thirty men. I never said 
 "collection" at any place; but in the morning the 
 store-keeper where I preached called me to the 
 counter and gave me fifteen dollars. He said 
 the boys had left it to my credit. This was gen- 
 erous, and as it should be. How much better 
 they must have felt to give without being asked! 
 I am sure the preacher felt better. 
 
 From there I proceeded up the Pecos River, 
 forty-five miles to old Fort Sumner, where there 
 were eight or ten persons, and most of them Mex- 
 icans. I only stopped over night. My way was 
 still up the river. I turned east to Fort Bascom. 
 There were but about fifty people. They turned 
 out well. 
 
 Thence I went to La Junta and Fort Union. 
 Visited with Brother and Sister Harwood. They 
 were commencing to build the main part of their 
 present school-building at Tiptonville. This was 
 near the close of my travels in New Mexico. I 
 
NEW MEXICO. 257 
 
 would have been willing to go to Misea, Las 
 Cruces, and to Franklin or El Paso, with some 
 other points, leaving Brother Harwood all the 
 Mexican work; but Bishop Ames said it was too 
 far away, and that he could never follow it up. 
 So I submitted to the powers that be, and came 
 to Colorado again, having traveled a little over 
 ten thousand miles on horseback in two years. 
 
 During the year 1868-69 * ^ a ^ ma ^ e U P m Y 
 mind that Rev. Thomas Harwood was the best and 
 safest man that I knew of in my acquaintance for 
 the New Mexican work. We had traveled adjoin- 
 ing circuits in the North-west Wisconsin Con- 
 ference, and helped each other. Afterwards we 
 were separated. When the war became hot, he 
 left his work, and volunteered as a private. A 
 presiding elder, one of my class in the conference, 
 went as chaplain. Although a strong preacher, 
 he was not popular with the regiment, and Brother 
 Harwood was chosen in his place, and acquitted 
 himself creditably. After the war, he took work 
 in the conference again. 
 
 This matter of supplying New Mexico had 
 been a special subject of prayer and thought, and 
 I could not feel like asking the bishop for any 
 other man. And now that he has been there 
 nineteen years with his faithful wife, hard at work, 
 preaching and teaching, I am confident that the 
 blessed results have justified my decision. Until 
 Rev. S. W. Thornton took the American work in 
 1884, he had charge of that as well as the Spanish 
 work. Mrs. Harwood, equally well qualified to do 
 
 22 
 
258 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 her part in teaching, has been equally successful. 
 The last Minutes I saw gave over eight hundred 
 converts to our Church, all taken from the Roman 
 Catholics ; something over twenty native preachers, 
 among them one Romish priest. To God be all 
 the glory. 
 
 Bishop Machbceuf, our old priest and bishop 
 of the Roman Catholic Church, came from New 
 Mexico to Colorado in 1860. He was considered a 
 great worker, and can be compared with Brother 
 Harwood in making proselytes. Brother Harwood 
 had the advantage, for he had a good wife to 
 help him. I have been a close observer, and 
 I have known but few taken from us, only 
 where fathers and mothers have been so blind 
 to the religious interests of their children as to 
 put them under the control of the Sisters of 
 Charity, so called. 
 
 I forbear to say more, as Brother Harwood 
 should give us a history of his own times and 
 hardships. I have given a short account of what 
 I saw personally. I am aware that some of my 
 sayings have been disputed, but the history is so 
 plain and well-known that it can not be success- 
 fully refuted. The people in New and Old Mex- 
 ico are not to blame for their condition so much 
 as are their religious teachers. I have seen men 
 by the dozen go to Church in the morning, and 
 by eleven o'clock, the same men carrying their 
 chickens to a pit to have a cock-fight in plain 
 view of the priest's house. They were com- 
 municants, and yet I never knew one of them 
 
NEW MEXICO. 259 
 
 to be brought to account for violating the Sab- 
 bath. My prayer is that God will convert 
 and reform that whole country. Indeed, it is 
 rapidly becoming enlightened and improved in 
 every way. 
 
260 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTERXYI. 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 T the close of the first year in New Mexico, 
 I rode my pony from Santa Fe to confer- 
 ence at Central City, Colorado, a distance of four 
 hundred and fifty miles. Bishop Kingsley pre- 
 sided. He was on his way around the world, but 
 died suddenly and was buried at Beyrut, Syria. 
 I well remember when I read the account of his 
 death. I had just returned from a long trip to 
 Tiptonville, and my Advocate told the story. I 
 felt the loss severely. It was a mystery why such 
 a man, so full of usefulness, should be taken, 
 and I left. I was lonely and sad. But God 
 knows best. 
 
 In the summer of 1870 our conference was 
 held at Pueblo, Bishop E. R. Ames presiding. 
 Brother Harwood was sent to the New Mexico 
 work, and I was put on the Divide Circuit all 
 south and east of Denver, beginning at Peters- 
 burg, Bear Creek, Littleton, all up Cherry Creek, 
 and the settlements on Running Creek, and Ki- 
 owa and Bijou Basin a four weeks' work. I 
 was in the cabinet when it was named, and told 
 the presiding elder to call it Littleton, or by the 
 name of some post-office; but nothing but " Di- 
 vide" would do. I had several letters and other 
 matter sent to Spring Valley, eight miles from 
 
MARRIAGE. 261 
 
 any appointment. I was asked to preach in the 
 school-house in West Denver, but made no such 
 arrangement. The presiding elder said: "I sus- 
 pect I will have to interfere to keep you out of 
 Denver." I gave them no trouble; formed a class 
 at Petersburg, and at Fonda's School-house, on 
 Cherry Creek, during the year. We held a camp- 
 meeting at or near Isaac McBroom's, which was 
 well attended, resulting in some good. 
 
 On the seventh day of November, 1870, I was 
 married to Mrs. Lucinda P. Rankin, of Cherry 
 Creek, Douglas County, Colorado. I had been a 
 widower over twenty years, and had never seen 
 the time that I thought I could live and support 
 a family without locating. But since I could al- 
 most keep myself, I thought it was a poor woman 
 who could not help a little. So we were married, 
 and, by God's blessing, lived happily together until 
 she was called to her reward. 
 
 That year I took up a homestead, and in 1871 
 our presiding elder divided my circuit, and gave a 
 young man he judged to be of great worth the 
 best half. But before the year was out, the youth 
 left without credit to himself or anybody else. It 
 seemed to be hard to accomplish much on this 
 charge. The settlers were ranchmen. Stock was 
 ranging far away, and the loss of a cow was more 
 seriously felt than that of a human being. If a 
 man were killed, it was looked over, and the mur- 
 derer allowed to escape justice. But if a man 
 stole cattle, he was almost sure, if caught, to be 
 hung. Trial by court was too slow and uncer- 
 
262 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 tain. For instance, there were three men taken 
 for stealing cattle. They confessed that they were 
 out on the Plains, and being destitute of pro- 
 visions, had killed a heifer to live on till they got 
 in. They were willing to pay for her; but some 
 persons took them from the place of their trial to 
 the dividing ridge between Running Creek and 
 Cherry Creek, and hung them all on the same tree. 
 I was not at the trial or the hanging, but passed 
 by the day after they were taken down by the 
 sheriff and buried. Tracks were to be seen, al- 
 though I had not heard of the hanging at the time, 
 but thought it looked as if some one or more had 
 been hung there. I mention the above to show 
 how far many had been led from the way in which 
 they had been educated; and that it was hard to 
 succeed at once in the religious reformation of such 
 people. 
 
 What is Blbert County began to be settled in 
 1860. In 1870 I found the settlers there very hos- 
 pitable. It was a mixed community. The first 
 who came were lumbermen, to secure the valuable 
 timber and the ties; then the owners of herds of 
 cattle, sheep, and horses; then the ranchmen 
 proper. The settlements were not close., and 
 social gatherings not large. The devil, however, 
 always introduces dancing, which ruins the morals 
 of old and young. And all these years there had 
 been no missionary among them. 
 
 I found one saw-mill where they were willing 
 to have preaching on my regular round. I in- 
 cluded it in my plan, and missed but once. On 
 
MARRIAGE 263 
 
 one occasion, when I had come at my regular 
 time, I found that they had given out a dance for 
 that night. A young man from New York State 
 had come out for his health, and could play the 
 fiddle. At the hour, the dining-room was full, and 
 I preached as usual, and gave out an appointment 
 for two weeks. There was a board partition be- 
 tween the dining-room and an office with an open 
 window. Just as I was dismissing, the New York 
 invalid drew the bow across the catguts very 
 hoarsely, and directly I was out of the house they 
 were dancing. It was an insult; but I went back 
 to my next appointment. I had been asked by 
 several who had heard of the above, if the report 
 that there had been dancing after preaching was 
 true? I could not deny it, and remarked that it 
 was a new wrinkle in my history ; that I had been 
 in pineries, mining-camps, and in other rough 
 places, and this was the first time I had received 
 such usage. 
 
 On my return, I put up my horse at the log- 
 ger's boarding-house, and went up to the mill- 
 office. The proprietor and fiddler, with several 
 others, were in, while cooks and dish-washers were 
 looking through the window. I knew there was 
 
 another ball on hand. I said: " Mr. , do you 
 
 expect to have preaching to-night ?" He replied: 
 "I thought you would not preach for us any more, 
 as you said we were worse than any people;" and 
 he related what I have above stated, and more 
 with it. " I made the appointment in good faith, 
 and because I thought you were in great need of 
 
264 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 the gospel. I have preached in several States 
 and three Territories, and never had even a back- 
 woods fiddler to insult me as this fellow did!" 
 " Why, his Church allows dancing." "Can't help 
 that, sir. If he does n't know any better than 
 to act as he did at the close of our service, he had 
 better go back and learn how to behave." " We 
 will dance, all the same." "Very well, sir; then 
 I will serve you as the enemy of all souls will 
 never do, except you repent. I want you to know 
 that there are plenty of places to preach without 
 coming here again, where you do n't want what you 
 need most ; that is, the salvation of your souls." 
 I bade them good night, and going to the public 
 house, began preparing to depart. The host pro- 
 tested that it was dark, and I must not go away, 
 and was welcome there. So I concluded to stay. 
 After a half hour, a young man came in and 
 
 said: "Mr. sent me to say that he will 
 
 have all out to hear you preach at eleven o'clock 
 in the morning." At first I said, "No." But he 
 said they were all whipped, and wanted this diffi- 
 culty stopped. I sent him to see it they would 
 be on time. He was soon back; they were sure 
 to come. The turn-out and attention were good. 
 The case was like this : The loggers and teamsters 
 hired their men with the express understanding 
 that they could only dance on Saturday nights, 
 so that they could rest on Sunday. They said a 
 man was worse than nothing after dancing all 
 night ; the next day he would whip the horses and 
 mules, and accomplish nothing. I have thought 
 
MARRIAGE. 265 
 
 dancing the most enticing of all evils the cause 
 of separations and breaking up of families, and 
 the starting point of almost all grades of sin for 
 young and old. Yet it is called innocent. If we 
 are trying to promote a revival, the dance is the 
 best means to dissipate all serious reflection. 
 
 I tried to do all I could to stop vice, and faith- 
 fully preached the Word wherever a few could be 
 got together. Yet one decade without gospel or 
 religious example or associations has a wonder- 
 ful effect on people, even those who have been 
 trained well. It seems almost impossible to turn 
 them again to righteousness, while the children 
 lose all interest in anything that is moral, and 
 have an utter disrelish of religion. 
 
 We found numbers that had been members of 
 different denominations, who had lost almost, if not 
 all desire to live religiously. Judge how pleasant 
 it was to visit the few who had not bowed the 
 knee. Brother Wm. Bonafield, on Running Creek, 
 was such a one. He was a fervent and consistent 
 Christian. Just previous to our acquaintance he 
 came near being killed. A young man who had 
 been in the army with his son, called on them 
 frequently, and became anxious to marry one of 
 the daughters, and asked the old gentleman for 
 her. He evaded, and said he never wished to go 
 into such arrangements without consideration. 
 He talked to his daughter on the subject. She 
 said she had no idea of such a thing, or of having 
 anything to say to him on the subject. After 
 a short time he approached Mr. Bonafield again. 
 
 23 
 
266 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 The girl was called, and she gave him to under- 
 stand that she was opposed to his requests. Mr. 
 Bonafield told him that her decision ought to let 
 him off on this subject. But he replied: "If you 
 would say she must, she would be willing." He 
 answered: "I never do such business." 
 
 A short time passed. Mr. Bonafield kept a 
 dairy. The weather was rough. He looked out 
 on the range and saw most of his cows, and a 
 man riding among them. He thought nothing of 
 that, as men were often riding over the range. 
 When the time came to go after the cows, he felt 
 strangely opposed to going for them, and told his 
 wife so. After a short time, the same man he had 
 seen among his stock rode down to the house, and 
 proved to be the same man spoken of above. He 
 rode up to a log fence fifty yards from the house, and 
 called to Mr. Bonafield to come out. As the latter 
 neared the fence, he drew his pistol and said: "I 
 am going to kill you." Mr. Bonafield jumped 
 back and threw himself around to retreat, when 
 the wretch fired, the ball grazing the skull just 
 above the ear, felling Mr. Bonafield. By this time 
 the family were nearly all there, crying: "You 
 have killed our father." He rode off with the im- 
 pression that he had killed him; but Mr. Bona- 
 field soon got over the shock. It was a close call. 
 The would-be murderer escaped, although quite a 
 sum of money was spent to secure his arrest. A 
 few years later Brother Bonafield was thrown from a 
 wagon in the same yard, by a wild span of horses, 
 and so severely hurt that he died in a few days. 
 
MARRIAGE. 267 
 
 We lived on the east side of my two weeks' 
 circuit. I spent one Sunday on Cherry Creek and 
 the next at Kiowa and Running Creek. It was 
 over twenty miles to Kiowa. I left on Saturday, 
 went sixteen miles, and stopped with a friend, so 
 that I could reach my appointment in time. I 
 rode on Sunday about three miles, and had reached 
 Running Creek, and was going up the west side 
 when I heard the report of a pistol some fifty rods 
 across the creek, followed by distressing , cries. I 
 turned and rode in a lope up to the house. There 
 lay Mr. Miles Maiden, crying with anguish, pain, 
 and prayer commingled. He was lying in front 
 of the door. When I reached him there was one 
 man there; and two or three of his children, who 
 had run over from his mother's, some sixty rods, 
 were crying. He said he would certainly die. I 
 exhorted him to make a full confession of his sins 
 to God, and surrender his all into his hands. 
 
 The circumstances of the shooting were these : 
 This Sunday morning he was going to his 
 mother's; as he passed the house occupied by a 
 family which had formerly lived on his place, 
 the woman, who was alone, asked him to come 
 in and address a letter for her. He went in ; she 
 gave him a stool to sit on ; and when he was 
 about half-way through writing the address, she 
 shot him in the back, near the spine. He fell 
 over, and O, what pitiful cries ! This much I 
 gleaned from his answers to my questions. 
 
 I stepped up to see if there was any letter. 
 His little girl, about twelve years old, grieved 
 
268 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 almost to death, passed me, and handed it to me. 
 I saw what there was of the direction on the en- 
 velope. I opened it, and found a sheet of paper 
 with only the half of a name of a town on it. I 
 kept the envelope and paper. It showed me that 
 what he said was true. The stool was thrown 
 over; blood scattered about, and the woman was 
 gone. 
 
 Before this his mother was there, and the scene 
 was one of horror. Other neighbors came in, and 
 assisted to move him where he could be taken 
 care of. It was said by some of the neighbors 
 that the woman that shot him had been shooting 
 at a mark, claiming that she wanted to be in 
 practice so that she could shoot an Indian if one 
 came along. I afterwards learned that some one 
 had told her that he had talked about her, and 
 that she had become enraged and determined to 
 take his life. He lived some time, but was help- 
 less. His faithful mother attended him to the 
 last. The woman was arrested and tried ; but she 
 was finally acquitted. 
 
 Another reminiscence: In November, 1871, 
 we had announced our quarterly meeting at a 
 school-house near Brother Bonafield's. It was 
 the middle of the week; and as it was the first 
 time a presiding elder had ever been in Elbert 
 County, Brother B. T. Vincent took his good wife 
 along. On Tuesday it began to snow and blow, 
 and kept it up till Wednesday in the afternoon. 
 At the eleven-o'clock meeting there were fifteen 
 present, including the preachers all young people 
 
MARRIAGE. 269 
 
 but two. The presiding elder preached, and after 
 the sermon there was a speaking meeting. We 
 all went home with Brother Bonafield, and stayed 
 till morning. In the morning snow was up to the 
 axle of the buggy. I piloted Brother and Sister 
 Vincent till he thought he knew the road. It 
 was wide and plain, snow only two feet deep. 
 But the parson took one of the numerous lumber 
 roads, lost his way, and traveled nearly all day, 
 but finally got in. It is the most memorable ex- 
 perience of their Colorado life. 
 
 After I left them, just as I got to the edge of 
 Cherry Creek to cross, where the brush was thick on 
 each side of the road, some one shot off a heavy 
 charge close by my side. I was jarred, and heard the 
 bullet whistle. My pony jumped and ran, and I 
 could not check her for seventy rods. My first 
 thought was that it was some one shooting rabbits ; 
 but as I had been over there a day or two, and it was 
 known that I was to go home that day, and was a 
 witness in that murder case, many thought some 
 one was waylaying me at that narrow crossing who 
 felt that his cause would be more favorable if I 
 were out of the way. But God only knows. 
 
 This was a memorable quarterly meeting to 
 me, as my father was sick, and it was feared near 
 unto death. I wrote to the presiding elder to see 
 if the time could not be changed ; but he said the 
 time was set, and he had arranged for it, and we 
 must have it. 
 
 I reached home on the afternoon of the 3oth 
 of November, 1871, and started next morning 
 
270 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 from home for Bailey, to see father. I went the 
 near way by Sedalia, up Jar Hollow by Smith's 
 saw-mill, crossed straight over to the head of Buf- 
 falo Creek, and struck the Platte near where Ester- 
 brook Station now is, on the South Park road; 
 rode all day part of the time without any trail, 
 the snow knee-deep. After dark I came to a 
 bachelor's cabin, where I was made welcome, but 
 was overwhelmed with sorrow at the news of 
 father's death. In the morning I went on. It 
 was very cold, and I attempted to cross the North 
 Platte on the ice. It bore my pony till about the- 
 middle, when it broke through and gave me a 
 thorough wetting. I reached the house with 
 clothes frozen stiff. Father had died about the 
 time I had heard that shot at Cherry Creek. 
 
 Mr. Bailey and my two sisters thought best to 
 inter his remains near their house, at least for a 
 time. He had been a member of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church over fifty years ; a firm believer 
 in the Scriptures as explained by Wesley, Wat- 
 son, Fletcher, and Clarke. When the latter dif- 
 fered from the former, he liked Fletcher best. He 
 was at our house in the previous summer, and we 
 had sacramental services. It was seven miles 
 home. Before we got there he said that he was 
 tired ; it was too far for him ; but he wished to 
 take the sacrament, since it might be his last op- 
 portunity. Such it proved to be. We are not 
 without good hope that he has reached the 
 heavenly home, going from a mountain wilder- 
 ness to the fair fields of glory. I was reminded, 
 
MARRIAGE. 271 
 
 when I could not see my father alive, of "Let the 
 dead bury their dead; follow thou me." It was 
 only thus that I was comforted for not having 
 been with him before he died. But having tried 
 and failed to secure the postponement of quarterly 
 meeting for that purpose, I felt that my orders, 
 though severe, must be obeyed. 
 
 I spent two years on that work; averaged four 
 times a week preaching and exhorting. The rides 
 were long. Received in all eight hundred and 
 forty-six dollars for both years. It cost me two 
 hundred and forty dollars more than I received. 
 Having married a wife, it cost me more to live 
 than when single. We had several conversions, 
 and formed two classes. 
 
 At one place we began meetings in a school- 
 house. The second night two arose for prayers. 
 The third night, just about the time to start to 
 meeting, a blizzard heavy wind and fine snow 
 came up, too severe to be encountered. But a 
 dozen of us got there, and I tried to talk a little, 
 and proposed to have two or three prayers and 
 quit. But a young lady came and kneeled at 
 the altar, and though the wind blew in the snow 
 till it was two inches deep on the floor and we 
 were all white with it, she never stopped praying 
 or rose from her knees till the blessing came. 
 Then she shouted all the snow off her in a few 
 minutes, and we sang, " Jesus washes white as 
 snow." Outside and inside it was white as snow 
 that time. We all went about twenty rods to the 
 nearest house, and stayed till morning. The 
 
272 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 storm was so severe that all kinds of stock were 
 scattered, and many sheep and some of the herd- 
 ers frozen to death. We gave up the meeting. 
 
 I always thought if a preacher could get off 
 the second year with fair credit, he would better 
 be changed. So at conference, at my own request, 
 I was changed. My new field was Evans, Platte- 
 ville, and Fort Lupton. I moved about eighty 
 miles to Evans. The house had a leaky roof, so 
 that when it rained there was water more than 
 two inches all over the floor. The floor was good, 
 even if the roof was defective. An inch auger 
 soon relieved the floor, but I concluded to vacate. 
 Fortunately, Governor Evans's house was unoc- 
 cupied, and he gave me its use rent-free for eight 
 months. The governor was apt to be kind to a 
 preacher. 
 
 We gathered a small class at Evans, and had our 
 services. There was a good hall in town, which 
 was used for preaching. There was a colony of 
 old Covenanter Presbyterians, and quite a number 
 of Come-outers from them. Once in two weeks 
 I preached in the hall, generally to a crowded 
 house. I kept up seven appointments in the two 
 weeks' circuit. I was down as far as Corona 
 once, and preached their first sermon. 
 
 One of the appointments was at Bailey's School- 
 house, three miles down and across the Platte 
 River. One cold and snowy night in the winter, 
 after preaching to about twenty-five, I started with 
 a span of Mexican ponies. They were wild and 
 chilled, and dashed off at full speed. It was so 
 
MARRIAGE. 273 
 
 dark that I could not see their heads. They had 
 to turn the corner of a fence to get into the road, 
 and I suppose that, when they got to the turn, 
 they took such a sudden and swift whirl that I 
 was thrown off my seat and out. As I went I 
 thought the w r agon was coming over too. I struck 
 on the frozen ground below my shoulder, cutting 
 through both my coats, but fortunately not break- 
 ing the skin. I lay unconscious for an hour. The 
 first thing I knew, I was almost up and trying to 
 stand on my feet. I saw a light at the house, 
 some twenty-five rods away, and managed to get 
 there. My face was bloody, and I was a sight so 
 frightful that they had to ask who I was. The 
 principal hurt was between my breast and my 
 back-bone. Doctor Bedell was sent for, and my 
 wife came with him. I was hauled home the 
 next day, but it was two weeks before I could 
 help myself. 
 
 This was the worst jar I ever got. I feared it 
 was worse than it turned out to be. I only lost 
 three weeks, the longest time I had ever lost from 
 sickness. G. H. Adams, my presiding elder, vis- 
 ited me, and said it would take a longer time for 
 me to get up on account of my age. That was 
 reasonable, but one of the first places I went was 
 to his house in Greeley. I had a pleasant talk 
 with his excellent wife. He had two carriages. 
 His hired man hitched two horses to one, and he 
 wished to take the other up town for repairs. He 
 and I sat on the back seat, holding the pole of the 
 other carriage, and pulled it easily enough till we 
 
274 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 reached the railroad-crossing. Carriage number 
 one was on top of the grade, and started rapidly 
 down the other side ; carriage number two was on 
 the other side of the grade, and the sudden jerk 
 tipped the seat we sat on, and out we both went 
 backwards, one on each side of the pole. It was 
 a solid fall on our backs, with heads down grade. 
 I got up first, and said: "If I am old, I beat you 
 up!" As the good L,ord would have it, neither 
 was seriously hurt. 
 
 This was the most pleasant circuit I had trav- 
 eled, the country level, and the people congenial, 
 with some good Christian families. I must men- 
 tion Sister Williams. She was known as " Grand- 
 ma Williams." She had come at the earliest date, 
 and settled on the Platte River when the only 
 neighbors for miles were Indians. She had wool, 
 but no spinning-wheel. She looked at the grind- 
 stone, and conceived how she could utilize it. She 
 put on a wire for a spindle, and turned the ma- 
 chine and spun yarn enough to knit mittens and 
 socks for her family. There is quite a difference 
 between then and now. Our ladies who come on 
 the cars do much, although many neither sew 
 nor spin, even on wheels, machines, or any other 
 contrivance, having found out more congenial ways 
 to make clothes and money. But " Grandma Will- 
 iams" can not be too highly admired for her in- 
 genious machine and inexpensive clothing of her 
 family, and, best of all, for her noble Christian 
 character, even among the Indians. 
 
 That summer we had a pleasant visit from my 
 
MARRIAGE. 275 
 
 sister Rachel and her daughter Bertha. She had 
 helped me to keep my children together when I 
 was in need of help, through to the fourth year of 
 my ministry. Being rather feeble, she came for a 
 recreation, as well as to see us. We concluded to 
 take a trip to the mountains, as I could attend to 
 some things out there that had been neglected, 
 besides seeing my son Elias, whom she had helped 
 to raise. Started up through my circuit, preach- 
 ing at three places on our way. We had to cross 
 the St. Brain. There had been rain in the mount- 
 ains. The crossing was reported to be all right. 
 Just at dark we reached the creek, and drove the 
 ponies in. They were just done drinking. We 
 had a colt following. My wife must have a rope 
 tied around its neck, for she thought it would 
 have to swim, and she would hold the end of the 
 rope and lead it. Just as I was adjusting the lines 
 to ford the river, I heard a shrill voice: "Hold 
 on! the creek is swimming." It was the same 
 man who had told us it was all right. So it was 
 when he crossed ; later he heard of the rise above, 
 and knew that it would be about dark when we 
 would get there. So he made all haste to over- 
 take us, lest we should all be drowned. He 
 was just in time. In another instant we would 
 have been in the deep and swift stream. We 
 backed out with difficulty. I have often thought 
 of the favor he conferred on us, doubtless directed 
 by the overruling providence of the L/ord. 
 
 When we crossed the next morning, Sunday, 
 the water ran over the wagon-box. At eleven we 
 
276 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 were on hand at the services, and on Monday went 
 on south to see the rest of our folks. Back the 
 next Sunday on the bounds of my circuit; for the 
 conference of July, held at Greeley, 1873, was J ust 
 at hand, presided over by Bishop Andrews. As 
 my work was long, Evans was taken off, and 
 Erie, Lupton, Platteville, and other places attached. 
 The conference session was pleasant. 
 
A MOUNTAIN TRIP. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN TRIP. 
 
 WHILE my sister was visiting us, I took her, 
 my wife, niece, granddaughter, and Brother 
 Washburn, a member of our conference, on a three 
 weeks' mountain-trip. We left the valley at Mor- 
 rison in a light wagon, with tent and provisions 
 for camping out. We went up the Turkey Creek 
 road, which was a good one, provided one did not 
 slip off; otherwise he must take a sheer fall, in 
 places, of hundreds of feet, almost perpendicular. 
 Of a mule-team and wagon that backed off, only 
 fragments were left. We passed safely till within 
 ten miles of Bailey's, my brother-in-law's. There 
 we had a long slope of moderate grade, and let 
 the ponies take a long trot. The fastening to the 
 axle on the upper side broke, and the ponies let- 
 ting out, had a natural tendency to run the wagon 
 off on the lower side. I was soon thrown out. 
 Brother Washburn no sooner had caught the lines 
 than the wagon turned over, smashing the mess- 
 box, and mixing up our provisions and outfit gen- 
 erally. The ponies stopped in a bunch of willows. 
 Finding ourselves unhurt, with the help of some 
 mountain boys we gathered up the fragments, 
 loaded and wrapped up, hitched the scared ponies, 
 and went our way, rejoicing that it was no worse, 
 and reached Bailey's without further adventure. 
 
278 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Next day was Sunday, and my father's grave 
 was there under the shadow of the pine-trees. 
 We concluded it would be best to have preaching, 
 as there were about fifteen people. Brother Wash- 
 burn preached, and afterwards I talked some. It 
 was a solemn service. 
 
 The next day, taking sister and her two chil- 
 dren, we made our way to South Park, which, as 
 one approaches it on the old wagon-road, at the 
 point of Kenosha Hill, is as grand a view as one 
 will ever see in the mountains. As we neared 
 Jefferson Creek, Brother Washburn, who was walk- 
 ing, jumped on to the hind end of the wagon to 
 ride across. But as we were almost over, he lost 
 his balance and fell back into the creek. It wet 
 him thoroughly. He got out and asked what 
 creek it was. I replied: "It is Jefferson, but we 
 will call it Wash-burn after this!" We had our 
 sport at his expense. We passed Fair Play, and 
 went up Four Mile Creek and Horseshoe to tim- 
 ber height. We left our wagon, borrowed a burro 
 or two, with pack-saddles, and went by the pass 
 between South Park and Iowa Gulch known now 
 as Horseshoe Pass to where my son Elias was 
 working what he called the Dyer mine. 
 
 Mounting the women and girls on the ponies 
 and jacks, we took up the dim, steep trail. When 
 we began to descend over slide-rock, and no path 
 to speak of, the women screeched out in affright. 
 No persuasion or commands sufficed to keep them 
 on. Off they jumped, all but the little girl, who 
 sat composed on the jack without a bridle. The 
 
A MOUNTAIN TRIP. 279 
 
 sure-footed little beast picked its way carefully. 
 We led the other animals ; traveled slowly, but 
 made it over, and camped with the men that 
 night. I visited my son, who was killed the next 
 year. The badgers or porcupines made havoc 
 with the straps and bridles that night; and the 
 next day we got back to our tent. I will say 
 here that the Dyer mine was not opened up 
 enough to pay well. After the death of my son, 
 I sold his half of it to Mr. H. A. W. Tabor for 
 three thousand dollars. Two years later it was 
 sold for sixty thousand dollars. 
 
 From here we made our way around to Mos- 
 quito District, where I had taken a claim in 1861. 
 Elias came over with us. I hauled a half ton of 
 ore to Hill's works at Alma, where its worth 
 was estimated to be thirty-six dollars a ton. I 
 asked what he would treat it for. He said: 
 " Thirty-five dollars a ton." This would not pay. 
 I let it go for less than cost. It has been worked 
 since; but not to so great profit as many others. 
 
 By this time it was Sunday, and as we were 
 camped near Alma, I was invited to preach. I 
 found many whom I had known in other places 
 in the mountains. From this point we made our 
 way to the valley and back to my circuit. I 
 preached at Erie, Valmont, St. Brain, Platteville, 
 Lupton, Brighton, and occasionally at other school- 
 houses. This was my second year. The circuit 
 stretched over quite a territory. The congrega- 
 tions were fair. The two years were pleasant to 
 me, and, so far as I knew, to the people also. 
 
280 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 A few were converted and joined the Church. I 
 received between six and seven hundred dollars 
 each year, out of which the closest economy en- 
 abled us to save about seventy dollars a year. 
 The people were not of the wealthy class, and 
 were as liberal as they ought to have been. 
 
 I was appointed by Bishop Bowman, at the 
 conference held at Colorado Springs, 1874, to 
 Monument, a new work and newly settled. The 
 Indians, grasshoppers, and drouth had almost 
 used them up. There were about a dozen mem- 
 bers, and a few of other denominations. No house 
 could be had at the time ; and for a month or more 
 we had to go into the back end of a bowling-alley. 
 
 I went around my circuit about six preach- 
 ing places at first and, seeing no chance to get 
 any other house, I went to work, got a good lot 
 given and some subscriptions toward building a 
 parsonage. I engaged in the undertaking with a 
 will. Some gave team-work, but generally I had 
 to drive the team ; and paid a little over fifty dol- 
 lars out of my own purse. I put up a frame six- 
 teen by twenty-four feet, with one partition nine 
 feet in height ; inclosed, and lathed and plastered 
 it. I had some slabs given to me, and put up a 
 stable to hold my ponies and cow. When we 
 got through we were comfortable and not in debt. 
 
 While, living in the old alley there came a hard 
 storm of wind, which at every- blow rocked it a 
 foot. Mrs. Dyer sprang up, dressed, and wanted 
 me to get up. I was tired, and thought there was 
 no danger; but she lighted the lamp just as the 
 
A MOUNTAIN TRIP. 281 
 
 stove-pipe came rolling down. That brought me 
 to see how the old thing reeled to and fro. I 
 went out and propped it with poles so that it did 
 not quite blow over. Next morning almost every 
 house in the little town was propped. A car, 
 used by some railroad men for cooking and sleep- 
 ing, was turned over, and several of its occupants 
 had their heads tied up. But our new parsonage 
 was all right. 
 
 For two months and a half I attended to three 
 appointments a week, all on Sunday, and yet lost 
 no time from work on the parsonage. Counting 
 the work, the parsonage cost over three hundred 
 dollars. It was on a good lot, and we felt that 
 we had a right to be thankful and somewhat 
 proud to have so good a house. To be sure we 
 were not able to get seasoned lumber to lay the 
 floor, but we keyed up the green lumber, and had 
 carpet, and got along comfortably with that. I 
 speak of this to give some idea of how matters 
 were then and now. 
 
 We had a small frame church, which had been 
 built by Brother Warren, who had formed a 
 society some two or three years before, and before 
 the railroad had been thought of. But when it 
 was made, they put the depot two and a half 
 miles from the church. We preached in it all the 
 time, and it was fairly filled with attentive hear- 
 ers, as was the school-house at Monument, where 
 we lived. Near the holidays we commenced a 
 protracted meeting, and held a week before the 
 work began among the people. In two weeks we 
 
 24 
 
282 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 had about twenty conversions, and about the same 
 number joined the Church, and good was (fane a n 
 around the circuit. We enlarged the circuit to 
 include Table Rock, a good settlement, prospected 
 the country generally, and had hopes that it would 
 be a good circuit. 
 
 At the close of the year's work, our conference 
 met at Central City, Bishop Haven presiding with 
 his usual acceptability. I was read out for Monu- 
 ment, the second time. Being acquainted, I 
 started in at once, and held a meeting at Spring 
 Valley, and formed a class ; and near the holidays 
 commenced at the old church another effort for re- 
 vival. We had about the same results a refresh- 
 ing time things went pleasantly and quietly. 
 
 When the 4th of July, 1875, came, we had a 
 dinner and some speaking a very pleasant time 
 in a grove. I remember how comfortable I felt in 
 realizing what liberty and blessings we had in our 
 United States, and how thankful we ought to be 
 for them, although they had cost the blood of so 
 many of our friends. About that same time, at 
 Granite, in Lake County, they were interring my 
 son, who had been murdered by a lawless mob 
 of which dreadful tragedy I heard the next day. 
 The particulars I will relate at the close of this 
 year's record. The shock of this affliction almost 
 overcame me. My boy was gone! What should 
 I do? Temptations arose like a torrent, and 
 naught but vengeance presented itself. But the 
 Spirit whispered: " Vengeance is mine; I will re- 
 pay, saith the Lord." 
 
A MOUNTAIN TRIP. 283 
 
 I had a thousand thoughts to investigate as 
 they came. It was intimated if I wanted help to 
 take redress, I could have it. But that would be 
 mob-law, and the guilty might go clear, and some 
 innocent man be killed. It would not be right, 
 nor would it restore the dead to life. I could only 
 go to God in humble prayer for help in this time 
 of awful conflict, and he was indeed my consola- 
 tion and a present help in time of trouble. I de- 
 termined to do what I could to have law enforced 
 upon the guilty; by God's help to do my duty, and 
 to take him for my refuge. Soon I was able to 
 say: " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him." 
 And so I prepared for my Sunday's work. But 
 continually the temptation would come: u As they 
 have taken life, only life for life can repay;" and 
 as I was well acquainted with every hill and gorge 
 in their county, I could see just how it could be 
 done with but little danger to myself. The thought 
 came: " But little justice has ever been meted out, 
 by a course of law, in this country." And then, 
 when almost roused to desperation, this other 
 thought would come: "But I have a right to pro- 
 tection by the laws of our land; a right I not only 
 inherited my ancestors fought in the past but 
 purchased anew by the valor of my own sons, who 
 shed their blood in the last war; so, not by vio- 
 lence, but by law, must I be protected and righted 
 even in this." But no one can understand the con- 
 flict through which I passed, except he be placed 
 in the like circumstances. After the lapse of al- 
 most twelve years, I thank God that I was enabled 
 
284 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 to bear up, and to resist the terrible temptation 
 that had well-nigh overthrown me. All this con- 
 flict was before I had heard anything beyond the 
 fact that my son was shot in the court-house. I 
 kept up the work of my charge as well as I could. 
 Monument, Spring Valley, and Table Rock, I con- 
 cluded, would make a good circuit in the near 
 future. This year the grasshoppers ate up every- 
 thing, and some of our Methodist folks moved 
 away. The new presiding elder seemed to judge 
 things from the depot. If the tow r n was small, he 
 swapped off and let the charge go. Well, it never 
 seemed the best thing; but if the Presbyterians 
 or other Churches can and will save as many souls 
 as the Methodists, it will be well. 
 
 These were hard years of labor and affliction, 
 never to be forgotten. I received $904 in the two 
 years, all told, and it cost me $170 more than I 
 got. Even the parsonage I built they let run 
 down, and finally sold it for fifty dollars. A more 
 careful and minute inspection of the field by the 
 presiding elder would, I verily believe, save many 
 promising appointments to our Church. 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 385 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 f 
 LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 
 
 WHEN I came into the mountains, in 1861, 
 Lake County included all the territory 
 west of Park County. My first visit was in July 
 of that year. I was well acquainted with its 
 mountains and gorges as far as Gunnison, and 
 equally well acquainted with the early settlers. 
 To say the least, they were a fair specimen of 
 miners in the early days of Colorado. I believe I 
 had their general good-will as I preached to them. 
 I felt at home among them, and, indeed, called it 
 home from 1866 to 1868, during which time I 
 helped to get some settlers into the lower part of 
 the county. It must be remembered that Chaffee 
 County has been taken off since. In 1867 I was 
 elected prolate judge of the county. I did not 
 want the office for honor or profit ; but the majority 
 of the people called me to it. I served them about 
 one year, and then resigned, having been sent by 
 the conference to New Mexico. 
 
 I had reason to respect many of the citizens. 
 Few professed anything but to take the world as 
 it came, and that generally proved to be a very 
 rough way. Below the Twin Lakes the settlers were 
 mostly ranchmen. All seemed to go along fairly ; 
 but tale-bearing, a lie once in awhile, land-claims 
 and surveying land, in some cases entering land 
 
286 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 fraudulently, irrigating ditches the depraved heart, 
 full of covetousness, made great use of all these 
 to stir up strife. Out of very trivial causes great 
 dissensions sometimes arose. I mention one case, 
 because it led up to the murder of my son: Mr. 
 Elijah Gibbs, a very straightforward man, moved 
 into the neighborhood. The disposition of the 
 older settlers was to domineer over the new- 
 comers. If they submitted, all right ; if not, then 
 there were means to subdue their haughty spirits. 
 So when Mr. Gibbs drove up and tied his team 
 where a gang were threshing, he was soon aston- 
 ished at seeing his team hitched to the machine, 
 his permission having neither been asked nor 
 granted. He indignantly and, I fear, profanely 
 ordered his team put back, under pains and penal- 
 ties. From then on there was bad blood between 
 these parties, aggravated by conflicting land and 
 water claims. Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Harrington 
 quarreled over a ditch in which they were jointly 
 interested. Almost a pitched battle ensued, but 
 neither was hurt. That night somebody set fire 
 to Mr. Harrington's out-house. He got up, and ran 
 out to extinguish the fire, and was shot and killed 
 by some person unknown. There is no question 
 but that whoever did the dastardly deed should 
 have been hung. The circumstances of the pre- 
 vious quarrel pointed suspicion at Gibbs. As soon 
 as the word went out, a party gathered and went 
 to hang him. But he and some of his friends 
 were armed, and declared that it could not be 
 done ; but that if they wished to try the law they 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 287 
 
 could do so ; and if Gibbs was found guilty, justice 
 would be permitted to take its course. 
 
 A warrant was taken out, and he was tried and 
 acquitted. He went back and went to work on 
 his ranch, intending to live the suspicion down ; 
 but those who first went to hang him, to the num- 
 ber of fifteen, filled themselves with strong drink, 
 went to his cabin, and ordered him to come out 
 and be hung like a man. Gibbs was alone, ex- 
 cept his wife and little children, and a neighbor 
 woman with her little child ; but his courage and 
 presence of mind did not desert him. Barring the 
 door, he prepared to defend himself. His be- 
 siegers piled brush against the back of the house 
 and fired it, to drive him out. The result not be- 
 ing satisfactory, using Gibbs's favorite race-horse 
 as a shield, they made another pile against the 
 door. Through a hole at the side of the door 
 Gibbs saw what was going on, and realized the 
 imminence of his peril. When one of his assail- 
 ants struck a match to fire the pile, he opened 
 with his revolver on the crowd, shooting two men. 
 A third was wounded, but with shot. As no shot- 
 gun was discharged from within, it is likely that 
 in the excitement outside a gun was accidentally 
 fired, with the result stated above. 
 
 Discovering a man at the back of the house 
 climbing on to the yard-fence, he shot at him 
 through the window. He heard the ball strike, 
 and thought it hit his pistol-scabbard, and that 
 the man was one of the leaders. It turned out, 
 however, to be a man who lived with one of the 
 
288 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 leaders, and he was wounded in the fleshy part of 
 the hip. I believe this man recovered ; but the 
 other three died in about three days, two brothers 
 and an uncle. I heard they expressed sorrow for 
 the course they had taken, and said they did not 
 blame Gibbs for the defense of his family. 
 
 The excitement was past description. Gibbs's 
 friends thought it best for him to leave. So, with 
 two or three othrs, he started. But his would- 
 be murderers collected and pursued him, bound 
 to take him dead or alive. Gibbs's party made 
 their escape through the mountains sometimes 
 hearing their pursuers to Monument, where they 
 had acquaintances, with whom they left their 
 horses, and took the cars for Denver. 
 
 When Gibbs's baffled pursuers went back, they 
 formed what they called a Committee of Safety ! 
 after they had got three men killed and one 
 wounded. Everybody said that Gibbs had done 
 just right in defending himself, and that if he had 
 killed more of them it would have been well. 
 The press of the Territory also sustained him. 
 This "Committee of Safety " gathered all they 
 could on their side, including a lot of tie-cutters, 
 some sixty men all told. They seized horses to 
 ride, and they arrested all who did not think or do 
 and say as they did. Head-quarters were at 
 Nathrop's mills. As the suspects were brought 
 in, the committee questioned them as to their 
 opinion whether Gibbs murdered Harrington. 
 This was all the reason they claimed for their 
 tyrannical procedure. 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 289 
 
 Among those hauled up was my son, Probate 
 Judge E. F. Dyer. They acted roughly with him ; 
 asked if he believed Gibbs shot Mr. Harrington, 
 etc. He told them he did not. When he was 
 forty miles away at work, he heard that Gibbs had 
 done it; but had then said that he could not and 
 would not believe it unless it was proven on him. 
 He had known Gibbs ever since 1860, and firmly 
 believed that he was innocent of the crime alleged 
 against him. 
 
 Of course the "committee" were furious. He 
 had a pistol on his person, and could have used it, 
 but determined that he would not unless his life 
 were in danger. 
 
 A notice, signed by order of the committee, to 
 leave within three days and to resign his office, 
 was served on him; but as they had taken his 
 horse, and as he could not walk in the snow by 
 reason of a stiff knee from white-swelling, he did 
 not obey. So the second time they brought him 
 before their august presence. He insisted on the 
 return of his horse, and finally they brought it, 
 and he started. A few miles out, as he was going 
 up a gorge, he was stopped by a guard of two 
 armed men. Their orders were to let no one 
 come out or go in on that road. One of them had 
 been befriended by him, and gave him permission 
 to go to Granite. He headed in that direction, 
 but soon turned toward Fair Play, avoiding the 
 road for some mjles. It was hard traveling, as 
 the snow was deep, and the weather cold, in mid- 
 winter. Some time in the night he reached Fair 
 
 25 
 
290 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Play. Thence he went to Denver, and visited us 
 at Monument. 
 
 The mob of safety procured government arms, 
 and ran off about forty of the inhabitants. It was 
 their gentle policy, when their prisoners would not 
 answer the questions satisfactorily, to hang them 
 awhile in order to subdue their refractory spirits. 
 One of their victims, a Mr. Marion, I saw while 
 his neck was yet sore. Some had to leave home 
 and property, some stock on the range. One or 
 more women died from the terrible excitement. 
 A Mr. Hardin, the outspoken proprietor of a pack- 
 train, cursed their infamous conduct, and was soon 
 thereafter found by the roadside murdered, to- 
 gether with his dog, whose paw the ruffians had 
 clasped in the dead man's hand. 
 
 And all this where there were laws, and courts, 
 and officers to prevent such outrages, or to punish 
 their perpetrators ! But it appeared that judge, 
 governor, constable, sheriff, like Gallio, "cared for 
 none of these things." I had a talk with the 
 governor, and asked him to send men to put a 
 stop to such proceedings. He intimated that he 
 had heard from the other side, and paid no atten- 
 tion to my plea. I said, " Governor, if you won't 
 do anything to stop such a state of affairs, I am 
 keen to tell you that I have no use for such a 
 governor, and our country has much Jess use," and 
 left him. I concluded that it was a political 
 dodge, and that he wanted to be on the strongest 
 side, even at the price of not fulfilling the obliga- 
 tions of the highest office in the Territory. The 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 291 
 
 mob carried all before them, and always managed 
 to have a grand jury that was on their side. 
 
 At the first meeting of our representatives, I 
 thought to get a bill passed to attach Lake to 
 some other county for judicial purposes. I went 
 to as many as three Republicans to help me after 
 the governor refused. They either wished to be 
 excused, or refused outright to take a hand in it. 
 I felt that I had some claim for help in such a 
 time of distress and violation of laws; but I got 
 the cold shoulder. I met Judge Miller. He was 
 acquainted with the case ; said he would draw the 
 bill, for he believed E. F. Dyer was a part of the 
 government. After having been refused by my 
 own party, I met Mr. Andy Wilson, a Democrat, 
 and he took the bill, and at the proper time, pre- 
 sented it. As soon as it was filed, a delegation 
 came down from Lake and defeated it. This was 
 from the upper end of the county, before Lead- 
 ville's boom, when the county was weak. Not 
 many of them had anything to do with the mob, 
 but did nothing to stop it. When it took such 
 proportions, they, or most of them, would rather 
 let murder go unpunished than to saddle the feeble 
 county with the expense of prosecuting the offend- 
 ers. And as soon as news of the defeat of the bill 
 got to Oro, a meeting was called at Mr. H. A. W. 
 Tabor's store, the largest house there ; and resolu- 
 tions were adopted commending S. Y. Marshall 
 and others for the defeat of the "infamous" and 
 "nefarious" act! 
 
 Of those connected with the mob, so many 
 
292 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 have died suddenly or been killed, either by their 
 own hands or the hands of others, that I have 
 heard even wicked men say that it looked as if 
 the Almighty had followed the guilty with his 
 judgments. 
 
 After Harding and others had been shot down, 
 the governor sent out General Dave Cook, a de- 
 tective. A Mr. John McPherson, who had a club- 
 foot, and did not go around with the mob, but 
 wrote letters to papers in their defense, justifying 
 them, was able to be of great service to them, by 
 pouring oil on the troubled waters, and contrib- 
 uting to the impression made on General Cook's 
 mind that, as everything had quieted down, well 
 enough were best left alone. Whether money was 
 used I do not pretend to say. Some affirmed 
 that while the leaders were manipulating the de- 
 tective for a favorable report, Uncle Jesse Marion, 
 whom they held in custody, and whom they had 
 hung once or twice, managed to give his guards 
 who were so much interested in the conference 
 with Cook, that they left him for a few minutes 
 the slip, and taking down the Arkansas River, 
 made his escape. I saw him after he got to the 
 valley. His neck was yet sore from the rope. 
 He seemed to think Mr. Cook would not have been 
 so ready to report favorably if it had been his own 
 neck that was sore. 
 
 As to Mr. McPherson's accusations about 
 Brown's Creek, and the dishonesty that had been 
 unearthed there by those who had been engaged 
 in setting fire to a house over women and little 
 
LAKE COUNT* OUTRAGES. 293 
 
 children, and in killing men and hanging others to 
 make them tell what they wanted told, they are 
 not worth notice. How the governor could recon- 
 cile his apathy whilst this lawlessness continued 
 during which ten or twelve were killed outright, 
 and a whole county terrorized with his official 
 obligations, I leave the reader to decide. 
 
 When spring came, Judge E. F. Dyer returned 
 to Lake County. Mr. Marion whose escape from 
 the mob, after having been run up by the neck, is 
 given above also returned, and swore out warrants 
 before the judge for all who had taken part in the 
 outrage. The culprits gathered all they could 
 nearly thirty men and the sheriff with them, as 
 he in character as well as ability was more in his 
 element with a mob than anywhere else. They 
 came with guns and pistols, and entered the court- 
 room armed. The judge ordered them to divest 
 themselves of their arms, and they laid them off in 
 the back-end of the court-house ; after which their 
 cases were called. Jesse Marion, the principal 
 witness, and others, were not uninterested spec- 
 tators while the crowd was gathering. From what 
 they saw and heard they feared to go to the trial, 
 and court was adjourned till eight o' clock the next 
 morning for want of evidence. The judge slept 
 over a store, with some others, and was told by the 
 sheriff that he could not leave that night. Mr. 
 Gilland was there. His mule was watched through 
 the night, and without doubt, if he had attempted 
 to get it, he would have been shot. He was ad- 
 vised to leave, and did so, slipping out over the 
 
294 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 hill, and walked to Fair Play, through the mount- 
 ains, twenty-five miles, and reported the situation. 
 At eight o'clock court was called, and the accused 
 were dismissed for lack of evidence. They all 
 went out. Mr. Hay den stopped with the judge a 
 minute. Some one called him down on purpose. 
 He went, and as soon as he left, five men from 
 the crowd went up the stairs' at the back-end of 
 the building. The judge was sitting in an office- 
 chair, and three or four shots were fired. One 
 ball struck the chair, another went through his 
 arm above the wrist, and on through the window. 
 One man on the outside heard him cry: "Spare 
 my life!" But he must have made toward them, 
 and been caught by some of them near the door, 
 as the pistol was evidently put close to his head 
 the hair being all burned around the bullet-hole, 
 which was just behind his ear. They all went 
 down the steps, and mingled among their crowd, 
 which was waiting for them at the foot of the 
 stairs. A man looked through a crack, as it was 
 a log house, and saw the tragedy, and was the 
 first to reach him. But the judge never spoke, 
 and breathed his last in a few minutes. Another 
 man, Mr. Woodard, standing above on a bank, 
 only a few feet away, saw them come out, and 
 knew them all. He was imprudent enough to tell 
 what he saw, and not long after was shot off his 
 horse and killed. The man who shot him re- 
 sumed his abode with the mob. It was called 
 "self-defense." So it was to the mob. 
 
 An officer was called, an inquest held, a ver- 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 295 
 
 diet rendered : That E. F. Dyer came to his death 
 by unknown hands. The mob terrorized the com- 
 munity, for only about half their number were 
 brought by a warrant; the rest came armed to 
 prevent those accused from being tried. The in- 
 quest was virtually in the hands and interest 
 of the mob. 
 
 One of their number was mysteriously shot 
 several years after in his own store. I will nar- 
 rate the circumstances as I heard them. He had 
 a young man hired to herd for him, said to have 
 been a nephew of Mr. Harrington, the first man 
 murdered in the annals of the mob. He came 
 into the neighborhood some time after his uncle 
 had been killed, and was heard to say that if he 
 ever discovered his uncle's murderer, he would be 
 avenged. After working for Mr. Nathrop for some 
 time, he quit, and went to the store to settle, and 
 must have settled with Mr. Nathrop. He was the 
 last one seen in the store before Mr. Nathrop's 
 dead body was found lying on the floor. The 
 young man rode to Buena Vista, a few miles dis- 
 tant, and danced most of the night, and in the 
 morning left on the cars. A reward of several 
 hundred dollars was offered for his arrest, but he 
 has not been heard of since. He could easily 
 have been taken ; but the people feared that Gibbs 
 was back, hunting his oppressors. The mob all 
 feared Gibbs a great deal more than they did the 
 devil, and so let the youth escape. Nathrop was 
 the wealthiest man connected with the 
 County mob. 
 
296 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 My son was murdered at eight o'clock A. M., July 
 3, 1875. The few people that were at Granite 
 buried him in the usual place of interment, where 
 there were a number resting. Among them was 
 Brother Rufus L,umery, an itinerant preacher, who 
 preached to us at my house when Elias was four 
 years old. But I was not satisfied to leave him 
 among such a set of murderers. So, some three 
 years after, my son Samuel and my son-in-law, 
 C. C. Streetor, went with a wagon nearly one 
 hundred and fifty miles, and removed his body to 
 Bailey, Colorado, where they disinterred my fath- 
 er's remains, and bore both bodies to Castle Rock, 
 Douglas County, and buried them side by side. I 
 considered this our duty. But unless it were a duty, 
 I would never do so again, for the reason that it 
 brings all the feelings of a father or a son back 
 afresh. I learned by this experience that a me- 
 tallic coffin does not last long. Father had been 
 buried only six years, yet his metallic coffin was 
 rusted full of holes. The other was pine, and 
 sound. They opened it, and the corpse was nat- 
 ural only a speck of mold on one cheek. God 
 only knows how hard a trial this terrible tragedy 
 was to me. After the lapse of all these years, the 
 memory of it rushes over me like a flood. Yet I 
 would infinitely rather endure my suffering than 
 what his cruel murderers must have experienced. 
 One was so crazed that he drowned himself. An- 
 other had what was called the " horrors," and 
 finally miserably died. God's curse was upon 
 them all. Be it so! 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES CONTINUED. 
 
 STRANGE fascination holds me to this 
 dreadful scene. No wonder. My son, edu- 
 cated, bright, wayward it may be, but honest 
 and fearless to have been so wickedly torn away 
 from me ! O, the weary, weary months of anguish ; 
 the alternate flashes of revenge and forgiveness; 
 the bitter struggles between wrath and mercy! 
 God have pity! even now, when I retrace the 
 efforts to traduce his character, made by his cow- 
 ardly murderers, my old blood boils! My son 
 was not perfect ; but his sins were against himself, 
 and his last letters show how his better nature 
 was dominating. 
 
 We give first the newspaper report of the foil- 
 ing of the lynchers, as printed in the Rocky Mount- 
 ain News: 
 
 Elijah Gibbs, who was, last October [1874], tried 
 for and acquitted of the murder of George Harrington 
 on Coon Creek, in June, arrived in town yesterday 
 afternoon, by the Denver and Rio Grande Railway. 
 He had telegraphed to Sheriff Willoughby to meet him 
 at the depot ; but, the latter not doing so, he went to the 
 store of W. T. Lambert, who is a connection, to whose 
 house he proceeded shortly after. About seven he 
 went over to the jail, where he intended to pass the night 
 as a matter of precaution, lest some of his friends, the 
 vigilantes, might be lurking about Denver. He was 
 
298 SNOWTSHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 met at the jail by a News reporter, to whom he gave, 
 substantially, the following narrative : 
 
 I,ast Friday, about midnight, I was aroused by a 
 party of men coming to my house, and knocking and 
 kicking violently at the door. I asked who was there, 
 and was answered by the question : "Is Gibbs at 
 home?" I answered I was, and then some one said: 
 " Get up, and come out ; we want to see you." 
 "Would not morning do as well?' I asked. "No, 
 we want you now. We will give you ten minutes to 
 get out of the house. We will give you fifteen to get 
 out with your family. If you are not quick about it, 
 we will burn you, house and all." 
 
 Gibbs made no reply to this cheerful manifesto, 
 and the party then, with much cursing and calling of 
 names, went around to the north side of the house, 
 where they began making preparations to fire. The 
 house, apparently, is an ordinary log cabin, with a dirt 
 roof, the door and one window being on the south 
 side. The assailants tried for a full half hour to get 
 up a blaze; but the logs, being old and full of water, did 
 not ignite readily, and all their efforts were fruitless. 
 Finally they knocked the dirt off the roof, and en- 
 deavored to set fire to the thatch, but it would not 
 catch, and at last they gave up the job in despair. 
 
 Gibbs, meantime, had been unable to take any active 
 part in the drama that was being enacted .owing to there 
 being no window on the side which was being fired. At 
 one time, he thinks, he could have killed two men who 
 were spying around the south side, but refrained from 
 doing so, as he wished to get a shot at a man named 
 Coon, who, he supposed, was the leader, and they 
 stood in the way of his fire. Before he could do so, 
 however, Coon got out of reach, and then the party 
 came around to the south side of the house, and began 
 piling hay and wood against the door. 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 299 
 
 When they got a pile of combustibles about four 
 feet high together, Sam Boone lit a match and was 
 about to touch it off, "when," says Gibbs, "I shot 
 him. It was when he was stooping, the match in his 
 right hand, a double-barreled gun in his left. The ball 
 entered here [pointing to his right breast]. I fired 
 from a chink in the boards which blocked up the 
 window, with a six-shooter. Boone was about eight 
 feet distant. Boone fell, after being shot, crying, ' Boys, 
 he 's got me.' All in front of the door then jumped 
 back, and then one of them cried, 'Charge on the 
 door.' They all bunched together, when I fired twice, 
 hitting two men in the legs. The gun of one of them 
 went off as he was falling, killing the other Boone. 
 That he was killed in this way is shown by the fact 
 that I had no shot-gun, and fifty-four shot were found 
 in his body. After these four fell, all stampeded. As 
 they started to run, I counted eleven, which, with the 
 four on the ground, made fifteen. As they crossed the 
 fence to the west of the house, I fired with my rifle, 
 hitting the revolver of one, but not hurting him. I 
 then told the women I would save their lives by going 
 to my father's, who lived about half a mile to the 
 east, in a direction nearly opposite to that taken by the 
 vigilantes. We got there safely, told him what had 
 occurred,,and he sent a messenger to Brown's Creek 
 to give the alarm. In about an hour and a half word 
 came that help was at my house. I then went home 
 and found thirty of my friends there, who told me I 
 had killed and crippled three men." 
 
 Incidental to this narrative, Gibbs said that, con- 
 trary to report, he had no knowledge of the vigilantes' 
 intentions, or he would have had his friends with him 
 when they came. As it was, he was alone with his 
 family, consisting of his wife and three children, and 
 a Mrs. Hutchinson, who had one child. They 
 
300 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 remained in the north room of the house, which was 
 divided by a partition in the middle, during the as- 
 sault, and were comparatively out of danger. Illus- 
 trative of the deadly designs of the attacking party, 
 the next morning a musket, with a charge that meas- 
 ured five and a half inches, was found, together with 
 a double-barreled shot-gun, containing twenty-one 
 buckshot in each barrel. After Gibbs and his friends 
 had discussed the situation, the former went over to 
 Brown's Creek, and gave himself up to Constable 
 Birchie, who guarded him till Monday, when he was 
 examined before A. B. Corwin, a justice. 
 
 Mr. Corwin was present during the foregoing re- 
 cital, and here gave his version of the examination. 
 He said that Mrs. Hutchinson was sworn, and told 
 identically the same story, which was further corrob- 
 orated by the testimony of ten of the surviving vigi- 
 lantes, who, in addition, in almost as many words, jus- 
 tified Gibbs's conduct. The result of the examination 
 was that Gibbs was dismissed, on the ground that what 
 he had done was done in self-defense. 
 
 But his acquittal did not help Gibbs much. The 
 sympathizers in the sentiment that led to the tragedy 
 of which he was held not responsible, resolved not 
 only to treat him as responsible, but swore that the jus- 
 tice who acquitted him should, with him, experience 
 the fate of Haman. It was not pleasant, either, for 
 Gibbs's near relatives and intimate friends to be around, 
 about this time; so he and his brother William, Justice 
 Corwin, and one Lewis Gilliard, made up their minds 
 to make a virtue of necessity, and vamose the ranche. 
 Accordingly, after the trial, which was over while the 
 sun was yet high Monday afternoon, the quartet, 
 heavily armed with a brace of revolvers and a double- 
 barreled shot-gun apiece, struck out for Denver. They 
 had got but about fifteen miles on their journey, when, 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 301 
 
 on the edge of South Park, some thirty or forty men 
 "ran onto them," as Gibbs expressed it, and chased 
 them about the same number of miles. It was mid- 
 night when the rencontre took place, but the moon, 
 then not much over the full, made everything as 
 bright as day, and the dark forms of the pursuers 
 could be distinctly seen as, spreading out in the form 
 of a fan, they came sweeping across the plain. 
 
 Gibbs's first move, after calling on the rest to sepa- 
 rate, was to run down a gully towards the east they 
 had been running nearly due north till the party had 
 passed on. His brother William, who had been the 
 first to discover them, made off in another direction 
 with the two remaining, and soon the chasers were 
 left some distance in the rear. But not for long. 
 They soon came dashing up again, and the pursued 
 quartet, who had come together again, were obliged 
 to lighten themselves of their provisions, blankets, 
 surplus clothing, in short, everything but their arms, 
 to make good their escape to a mountain in the near 
 distance, where they resolved to stand and sell their 
 lives as dearly as possible. Their thinking to unload 
 their cargo, however, enabled them so to accelerate 
 their horses' speed that the alternative was not needed, 
 and at daylight their pursuers were left far behind, as 
 worn out and hungry they rode in on a ranch at the 
 head of Curran Creek, from whose owner they de- 
 manded, in Gibbs's graphic language, breakfast, food 
 for their horses, and a house to fight in. 
 
 The two former were soon forthcoming, and then 
 they rode on till, at sundown, they arrived at Welters, 
 in Hayden Park, where they passed the night. The 
 next day they deliberated as to whether they would 
 take the Bergen Park or Colorado City road, but in ac- 
 cordance with Gibbs's own suggestion, they finally de- 
 termined to plunge right into the brush, and all were 
 
302 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 soon lying along the sides of the mountain at the 
 head of Dead Man's Gulch. They heard the reports 
 of two guns, and rocks at times rolled down the hill 
 apparently aimed at them ; but they saw no more of 
 the avengers of the two Boones. When about fifteen 
 miles off Colorado City, they stopped to rest, and 
 passed the night at Welch's. Yesterday morning they 
 came up to Summit, where they left their horses and 
 took the train. The entire distance traveled they es- 
 timated at one hundred miles. 
 
 Gibbs's intention is to return to his ranch, which is 
 some seventy miles north-west from Canon City, when 
 the feeling against him has subsided. He has one 
 hundred acres under fence, and sixty in a good state 
 of cultivation, which he thinks too good property to 
 be scared away from by trifles. Speaking of trifles, 
 Gibbs is particularly anxious to say that his friends, 
 the lynchers, did not humanely wait, as was reported, 
 for his wife's confinement before putting their plans 
 in execution. She is at this moment in an interesting 
 condition, and the fight and excitement consequent 
 upon the attack, nearly brought a premature de- 
 livery, with all its attendant consequences, on mother 
 and child. 
 
 A VIEW FROM THE INSIDE. 
 
 SOUTH ARKANSAS, COL., Jan. 30, 1875. 
 REV. J. L. DYER : 
 
 DEAR SIR, We are very glad, indeed, to receive a 
 letter from you. I almost arrived at the conclusion that 
 you had thrown off on us ; and I would not blame you 
 much if you had discarded me at least, for you know 
 I used to be an inveterate joker, and not always very 
 choice of language. We are all usually well, and 
 pleased to know that you and yours are in a like 
 condition. 
 
 Times here have been very exciting. The two 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 303 
 
 Boones and Finly Kane were killed. Gibbs escaped. 
 The pursuit, the forming a Vigilance Committee, the 
 arrests made by them, the reprimands to some and 
 the expulsion of others, the arrest of C. M. Harding 
 for burning Mr. Cameron's premises and horses and 
 still not yet finished up has kept us all in a great 
 commotion and excitement, almost up to the highest 
 pitch. Mrs. Hugh Mahan died recently, and the re- 
 port is that the present excitement was the sole cause 
 of her death. Jake Erhart was arrested ; so was Fred 
 Bertschey. 
 
 Your son Elias was arrested, and invited to leave 
 the county because he would not attend more strictly 
 to his own business, but on every occasion would 
 voluntarily vindicate the character of Mr. Gibbs, so 
 much so that he made himself odious to friend and 
 foe. The committee requested him to leave for the 
 good of his health. Perhaps he has seen you before 
 now. He was not injured personally, though his feel- 
 ings may have been injured. You need not apprehend 
 that the people have any desire to do any personal 
 violence to him, though they did choke a few with a 
 rope ; but I guess they will live through it, as the last 
 seen of them they were leaving this valley as if they 
 had very urgent business to attend to on the other 
 side. Elisha Gibbs and all of his personal friends 
 made their escape. 
 
 The committee have unearthed a nest of fearful 
 vipers. You would hardly believe were I to tell you the 
 particulars of what was found to exist in the shape of 
 a secret organization for the purpose of preying on the 
 people by cattle-stealing, taking up estrays and brand- 
 ing them, branding calves that belonged to their 
 neighbors' cows, butchering their neighbors' beef, 
 slandering their neighbors, and what not ; and then 
 uniting together to swear each other clear; and all 
 
304 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 this in the neighborhood of Brown's Creek, that rob- 
 bers' roost, where congregate all the unclean birds 
 that have fouled and defiled Lake County for a long 
 time, giving her a bad reputation abroad for no fault 
 of the county at large. 
 
 If Gibbs and his friends have any regard for their 
 lives or self-preservation, they will never return to 
 this county. No doubt, when this excitement sub- 
 sides, all of the less obnoxious exiles can return with 
 safety. It would only be a waste of breath for any one 
 to endeavor to convince any of the well-disposed 
 citizens that Elijah Gibbs is not the murderer of 
 George Harrington, or at least contrived and aided in 
 the act. It is proven to the satisfaction of all that 
 the aforesaid secret organization knew more or less 
 about the murder, and the rope is none too good for 
 them. If the trees of the forest would be made to 
 bear fruit this winter it would help society, at least in 
 the vicinity of Brown's Creek, amazingly. The people 
 have all dispersed and gone home, to be called out 
 again when necessary; and I assure you they have 
 done a good work, in my humble opinion. 
 
 Mr. Henry Skews attended the funerals of the 
 Boone Brothers and that of Finly Kane. I believe 
 him to be a very good young man, but very nervous 
 and easily excited. 
 
 I have written enough for this time. Please write 
 again. Come and see us, and bring your wife. 
 
 From your ever true friend, J. McPnERSON. 
 
 To show how my efforts to secure law and or- 
 der for I^ake County were received, consider this 
 correspondence to the Fair Play Sentinel: 
 
 ORO CITY, February 23, 1876. 
 
 EDITORS SENTINEL, A mass-meeting of the 
 citizens of Oro City and vicinity was held on the even- 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 305 
 
 ing of the 2ist ult., at the store of H. A. W. Tabor, for 
 the purpose of extending to the Hon. J. Y. Marshall 
 the congratulations of the people of Lake County for 
 the able and satisfactory manner in which Mr. Mar- 
 shall discharged his duties as representative of the 
 Eleventh District. 
 
 The meeting was called to order by Wm. McDer- 
 mith, who, in a few brief and appropriate remarks, 
 stated the object of the meeting. Captain Sullivan D. 
 Breece was elected chairman, and I. P. McCreagh 
 secretary. On motion, the chairman appointed a com- 
 mittee of three to draft resolutions, consisting of Major 
 DeMary, Maurice Hayes, and I. P. McCreagh. 
 
 The following resolutions were reported, and 
 unanimously adopted : 
 
 Resolved, That the thanks of this meeting are due, and 
 are hereby tendered, to the Hon. J. Y. Marshall for his able 
 representation of the Eleventh District in the late Legislative 
 Assembly of the Territory of Colorado, and in particular for 
 the important service rendered by him to the citizens of Lake 
 County in defending their rights against the infamous and 
 nefarious attempt to strip them of their privileges and make 
 them in judicial affairs a mere appanage of another county. 
 
 Resolved, That we hereby express our unqualified ap- 
 probation of the conduct of our representative in the late 
 Legislature, the Hon. J. Y. Marshall, and assure him of our 
 firm faith in his integrity and ability, and with feelings of 
 pride and pleasure tender him our warm congratulations and 
 thanks. (Signed), H. M DEMARY, 
 
 MAURICE HAYES, 
 I. P. MCCREAGH. 
 
 The secretary was then ordered to send copies of 
 the proceedings and resolutions to the Hon. J. Y. 
 Marshall and the Fair Play Sentinel for publication. 
 On motion, the meeting adjourned, amid hearty ex- 
 pressions of good-will toward the Hon. J. Y. Marshall. 
 
 SULLIVAN D. BREECE, President. 
 I. P. McCREAGH, Secretary. 
 26 
 
306 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 The following was clipped from the News: 
 
 Judge Dyer, probate judge of Lake County, ar- 
 rived in the city last evening. He left Fair Play 
 Monday morning, and rode his pony to Denver. He 
 was met, shortly after his arrival, by a News reporter, 
 to whom he related, in easy and pleasing language, 
 the exciting particulars of the recent tragic occur- 
 rences on Chalk Creek. From his recital which, by 
 the way, is only confirmatory of the account tele- 
 graphed the News on Monday it is apparent that the 
 lower end of Lake County is at the mercy of a mob, 
 who are responsible for the reign of terror prevailing 
 there at present. 
 
 Judge Dyer stayed at J. G. Erhart's last Tuesday 
 night. He had been down into the San Luis Valley, 
 and was going to Granite to hold court. Wednesday 
 morning, as he was preparing to continue his journey, 
 four men, armed with guns and revolvers, and mounted 
 on horses, approached and ordered him to accompany 
 them. They acted, of course, without a show of author- 
 ity, and carried their point by force, jerking the judge 
 a little when he demanded to see their warrant. He 
 was taken five miles, and lodged in the Chalk Creek 
 school-house. He was not alone, for others had been 
 gobbled up in the same way, and the victims were in- 
 creasing in numbers all the while. The prisoners 
 were removed from the school-house to a log building 
 near by. All through Wednesday and Thursday the 
 crowd of victims was continually augmenting. They 
 were being gathered in by the guards from all direc- 
 tions. The mob had runners out all over the county. 
 They were after everybody suspected of believing 
 Elijah Gibbs innocent of the murder of George Har- 
 rington. Citizens were marched three, four, and five 
 miles, over hills and through the snow, and lodged in 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 307 
 
 this improvised calaboose. It was a sort of " round- 
 up," similar to the cattle "round-ups" in the stock- 
 growing districts. During Wednesday and Thursday 
 about thirty citizens were brought in as prisoners by 
 the mob. 
 
 Meanwhile an inquisition was in progress in another 
 cabin close by. The court was run by a lot of fellows 
 styling themselves " The Committee of Safety." 
 Twelve men were impaneled as jurors. There was 
 no judge, and all were equally officious. Among the 
 so-called jurors were Benjamin Smith, Benjamin 
 Schwander, William Craft, and James Demming, the 
 latter county treasurer. John D. Coon and Josiah 
 Weston played a leading part in the prosecution. The 
 cabin was crowded with the friends of the court, most of 
 them armed, and a guard stood at the door, with a gun 
 in his hand. The victims were examined singly, and 
 each was sworn to secrecy, not only as pertained to the 
 proceedings, but as to who constituted the jury, court, 
 and tribunal, as well as the audience. Among those 
 who were arraigned on Wednesday and Thursday 
 were Judge Dyer, J. G. Erhart, Fred Bertschey, a Mr. 
 Evans, Frank Anderson, Elias Gibbs (father of Elijah 
 Gibbs), Thomas Morgan, Leslie and Ernest Christison, 
 William Richardson, Dr. J. N. Cowan, Thomas 
 Fletcher, Jesse Marion, Thomas Gilland, Lewis 
 Cowan, Anderson Geary, John and Milton Gibbs (half- 
 brothers of the slayer of the vigilantes), and a Mr. 
 Harding. The Gibbs brothers are mere lads, aged 
 thirteen and fifteen years. Mr. Erhart is a prominent 
 and much respected citizen, who represented the 
 county in the Legislature two terms, and has filled the 
 position of county commissioner several years. ' Frank 
 Anderson is a school-teacher, and Fred Bertschey is a 
 constable; but the mob paid no respect to position. 
 
 The principal object of the inquisition was to 
 
308 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 ascertain whether the prisoners sympathized with Eli- 
 jah Gibbs. Judge Dyer was asked if he thought Gibbs 
 innocent, and he replied emphatically that he did. 
 Some of the victims declined to answer certain ques- 
 tions, and they were ordered by the court to be hung 
 up by the neck until they could answer more 
 cheerfully and willingly. Among those who were 
 brought to time in this way were William Richardson, 
 Jesse Marion, and Anderson Geary. They were raised 
 from the floor several times, and were finally dis- 
 charged. Judge Dyer was discharged from custody 
 Thursday evening, but, finding his pony gone, was 
 obliged to remain in the neighborhood over night, and 
 the next morning he was hauled up before the sham 
 court again. After consuming some time in a re-ex- 
 amination of his case, he was handed a written sen- 
 tence, of which the following is an exact copy: 
 
 CHAI,K CREEK, LAKE COUNTY, " 
 January 29, 1875. j 
 
 JUDGE DYER, You are hereby notified to resign your 
 office as probate judge, and leave this county within thirty 
 days, by order of the Committee of Safety. 
 
 The judge's pony having been restored to him in 
 the meantime, he rode over to Trout Creek Friday 
 evening, and was accommodated with lodgings at the 
 house of a friend named Barney McQuade. Saturday 
 morning he started for Fair Play, but was soon halted 
 by a couple of armed guards, who, notwithstanding he 
 produced his passport, in the shape of an order to 
 " git," were determined to hand him over to the in- 
 quisition. Upon promising, however, to go straight 
 home, he was allowed to pass, and he continued his 
 journey to Fair Play. One of the men who stopped 
 him is named Diedrick, who is said to have deserted 
 from the army. The judge, hearing that all the roads 
 were guarded, to prevent anyone from escaping and 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 309 
 
 reporting the condition of affairs, took to the hills and 
 pineries, and, by avoiding all ranches and stations, 
 reached Fair Play Saturday night, himself and pony 
 panting with fatigue. 
 
 Judge Dyer thinks there are about seventy-five 
 persons concerned in this reign of mob-rule. They 
 are all residents of the lower end of the county, and 
 the strictest measures were enforced to shut out com- 
 munication with the people of California Gulch, by 
 guarding the highways, and arresting anyone who 
 attempted to pass. Miss Minnie Simpson, step- 
 daughter of the elder Gibbs, was stopped by a guard 
 while on the way to the post-office, and a letter which 
 she held taken from her. The mob have also seized 
 and destroyed the record of proceedings in the ex- 
 amination of Hlijah Gibbs for the killing of the vigi- 
 lantes. John Gilland, an old man who is seriously ill, 
 got his walking-papers the day Judge Dyer got his. 
 
 Judge Dyer will lay the foregoing facts before his 
 excellency, Acting-Governor Jenkins, this morning, 
 accompanied with a request for executive interference 
 for the restoration of peace on Chalk Creek, and the 
 protection of law-abiding citizens. 
 
 The following extract was clipped from a 
 country paper, name and date not preserved. It 
 shows the spirit of the vigilantes and their sym- 
 pathizers : 
 
 A gentleman who has just arrived from Lake 
 County informs us that Gibbs, the assassin of Har- 
 rington, has returned to Lake County, and has with 
 him a band of fifty armed roughs. The respectable 
 portion of the community were notified by parties in 
 Denver that Gibbs was about to return to revenge 
 himself upon them, and they have organized a force 
 
310 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of one hundred men fully armed to resist him. Our 
 informant states that the night he stopped at the res- 
 idence of John D. Bale, on the Upper Arkansas, it was 
 expected that an attack would be made upon the 
 house before morning, which, however, was not the 
 case. It is expected that a collision will take place 
 between the two parties somewhere near Granite. 
 The sympathy that Gibbs has received from the news- 
 papers of certain portions of the Territory has, of 
 course, induced him to return on a murdering expe- 
 dition. So much for making a martyr out of the vilest 
 cut-throat that ever went unhung. 
 
 A LETTER FROM JUDGE DYER. 
 
 CASTLE ROCK, Coi,., February 8, 1875. 
 DEAR PARENTS, I write you from Sam's. Came 
 up from Denver to Clint's last night. Am intending 
 to go back to Denver to-morrow. Have had a terrible 
 time of it, but begin to see our way out. Am intend- 
 ing to proceed against them for attempted assassina- 
 tion, and for damage, as some of them have means. 
 Gave your note to Sam, and what McPherson says. 
 I did believe, and do believe, Gibbs innocent of the 
 crime accused of; but minded my own business, and 
 did nothing but my duty as a good, law-abiding 
 citizen, and nothing but what a Christian might do 
 with a clear and approving conscience. I have done 
 nothing that you or any of the connection need 
 blush for, nor what you would not have felt compelled 
 to do under the same circumstances. I am proud and 
 glad to have been able to assist the suffering innocent, 
 even in as humble a manner as I did. My advice and 
 influence has been after the teachings of Christ, and I 
 feel that God approves all my words and acts in this 
 matter. I feel that I have lost and suffered more than 
 
L,AKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 311 
 
 the rest of the friends ; but I believe that good will 
 come of all ; and I have learned not to distrust God or 
 his ways, but have full confidence that, somewhere in 
 all the boundless future, he will make all even, and 
 give me that rest for which I long. The path of duty 
 is the path of safety. I feel it, and shall act ac- 
 cordingly. Many good people are praying for me and 
 my work ; and they can do no more, for their hands 
 are tied. I pray constantly to be able to work with- 
 out fear, and with malice toward none. 
 
 Will be to see you as soon as I can, but can 't say 
 exactly when; but in the meantime, believe me, I 
 will endeavor, by the help of God, to do all my duty 
 and nothing wrong. 
 
 If you have the time to write a line to Denver, it 
 would reach me. 
 
 Yours very, very truly, EUAS F. DYER. 
 All of us are together to-day. 
 
 ANOTHER LETTER FROM THE JUDGE. 
 
 GRANITE, May 30, 1875. 
 
 DEAR PARENTS, I received yours this morning, 
 and have to say was made very glad thereby. Have 
 not written fully because I could not; did not know 
 myself. Have been from one end of the county to 
 the other since. Just got around last night. Prob- 
 ably your dream may signify a fact. We are divided 
 as to course of action. I was and am ready to issue 
 warrants, though I do not think it advisable; but un- 
 less others will swear them out, I do not feel justifiable 
 in issuing them on my own responsibility. All my 
 reasons, or our reasons rather, I can not give on 
 paper; but it does not take much of a stretch of 
 imagination to guess a good many of them. 
 
 I met but one mobite in the lower end of the 
 county. They are all afraid, and many of them are 
 
312 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 leaving. This is the worst point in the case. Too 
 many of the bad characters will get out of the coun- 
 try. Perry Hutchinson, Ira Wing, and Smith Steele 
 have cowed them. The mob had a meeting, and 
 voted to kill four of our men. Perry went to the lead- 
 ers, and told them that when the first trouble was 
 made, every one of the mob would be killed like dogs. 
 They denied any knowledge of the affair, and said if 
 any wrong was done they would be as innocent of the 
 matter as he. He told them it did not make any dif- 
 ference ; they were the men he and his friends would 
 kill first. So they are in a terrible predicament. 
 
 We may be too slow, but I try to do justice to all. 
 God forbid that I should act from malice, or put my 
 feelings before the judgment he has given me. I am 
 not very pious yet not so much so as I hope to be 
 but there are, and always have been, some principles 
 of rectitude born in me which I fear to do violence to. 
 
 If we are too slow and easy, I will be the sufferer ; 
 but my conscience will be clear. If a man errs in 
 judgment, God may forgive, fyut men never do. If a 
 man errs from conscience, God can scarcely forgive ; 
 men always do, if he succeeds. So that you may see 
 that I know where I stand, and that I comprehend the 
 situation. However it may turn out, I will get many 
 curses and but little commendation, but know that I do 
 not weaken. 
 
 With many considerations of respect for judgment 
 and action, Your son, ELIAS F. DYER. 
 
 JAMES H. JOHNSTON'S LETTER INFORMING THE 
 JUDGE'S FATHER. 
 
 GRANITE, LAKE COUNTY, Coi,., July 3, 1875. 
 REV. JOHN L. DYER : 
 
 DEAR SIR, It becomes my painful duty to inform 
 you of the death of your son Elias F. Dyer, by the 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 313 
 
 hand of an assassin or assassins, at about half-past 
 eight o'clock this morning. He had just adjourned his 
 court, and lingered behind the crowd, and by so doing 
 he lost his life. He was killed in the court-room, shot 
 through the head and arm ; but, strange to say, no 
 one knows who did the deed. Some parties were 
 there in a moment, but he could not speak, and only 
 breathed a few times. The citizens here are so 
 shocked; and I myself am the same, so that I can 
 scarcely write. An inquest was held, but nothing that 
 showed any light. He will be buried to-morrow. We 
 will bury him as well and decently as we can. 
 
 You all have my heart-felt sympathy in this your 
 sad bereavement. If, after calming down, I find out 
 anything further, I will let you know. 
 
 Elias left two letters with me. He had a notion he 
 would be killed, I think, and probably in the letters he 
 has given you some idea. One of the letters is ad- 
 dressed to you, the other to Miss L,oella Streator. I 
 will mail them all now. 
 
 Iij sorrow, yours truly, JAMES H. JOHNSTON. 
 
 The following is the letter written by the judge 
 on the morning of his murder: 
 
 GRANITE, JUI^Y 3, 1875. 
 
 DEAR FATHER, I do n't know that the sun will 
 ever rise and set for me again, but I trust in God and 
 his mercy. At eight o'-clock I sit in court. The mob 
 have me under guard. Mr. Gilland is missing this 
 morning, but I do not think harm has befallen him. 
 God bless you, my father, in your old age, and in Sam 
 and his boy in all your children but you know John 
 bears the name. Bless him and his forever, O 
 my God ! 
 
 My love to all friends, and I say I am proud to 
 be your son. There is no cowardice in me, father. I 
 
 27 
 
314 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 am worthy of you in this respect. God comfort you 
 and keep you always. I am, in this one respect, like 
 Him who died for all ; I die, if die I must, for law, 
 order, and principle ; and, too, I stand alone. 
 
 Your loving and true, and, I hope in some respects, 
 worthy son, EUAS F. DYER. 
 
 The Rocky Mountain News, two days later, 
 contained the following dispatch from Fair Play: 
 
 This place is the scene of terrible excitement over 
 a tragedy that, used as all are here to deeds of blood, 
 strikes the entire community with a horror not felt for 
 many a long day. The feud which has divided Lake 
 County into two factions, each equally lawless, although 
 one purporting to be the representative of order and 
 legal authority, ever since the shooting of Harrington 
 by Elisha Gibbs over a year ago, which resulted in the 
 night attack on Gibbs's house on the 22d of last Jan- 
 uary, to the mortal harm of two of the assailants, and 
 the final running of Gibbs out of the country, has cul- 
 minated in the murder of Judge Dyer, of the Probate 
 Court of this county, for no other crime, apparently, 
 than endeavoring to do his duty. The particulars, as 
 near as I have been able to collect them, are as follows: 
 Dyer had issued sixteen warrants for the arrest of the 
 members of the so-called Committee of Safety, and 
 deputized Doctor Dobbins to arrest them. The latter 
 returned the warrants, saying he had showed them to 
 one Burnett, but had no means of bringing him to 
 Granite. Dyer then deputized a man named Sites, who 
 proceeded to carry out the order. He went immedi- 
 ately to Brown Creek, and arrested, first, Burnett, and 
 afterwards Chaffin, a ringleader of the Safety Com- 
 mittee faction, and a man named Moore. Sites then 
 went up the river to make other arrests, and, on re- 
 turning to Brown Creek, met Weldon, the sheriff of 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 315 
 
 Lake County, who told him to give him the warrants, 
 as he could make more arrests in one day than he 
 (Sites) could in three weeks. Sites gave him the war- 
 rants, and last Friday evening the sheriff of Lake 
 County, with about thirty armed men, came to Granite 
 a little before dark. The mob took Dyer to the court- 
 room. Fifteen or twenty citizens followed, but were 
 ordered back. What transpired in the court-room no 
 one knows. When Dyer came out he was very pale. 
 He immediately went to Johnson's store, and wrote a 
 letter. That night he was guarded, and the next 
 morning the mob again took him to the court-house. 
 A few moments after entering they came out, but 
 shortly afterwards they returned, and, as they were 
 passing up the stairs, four shots were fired. One ball 
 struck Dyer on the arm. When he found himself 
 wounded, he begged for his life; but the assassins fin- 
 ished him by shooting him in the head at the back of 
 the right ear, the ball lodging beneath the left eye- 
 brow. He lived fifteen minutes, and was conscious, 
 but unable to speak. While Dyer lay weltering in 
 his blood, and in the death agony, John D. Coon, a 
 ringleader of the mob, bent over him, exclaiming, 
 "What a horrible murder!" which sentiment is re- 
 echoed by the men hereabouts, who are aching to hang 
 Mr. Coon for his share in the crime. I will endeavor 
 to collect further details of subsequent occurrences as 
 I shall be able to gather them, but do so at the peril 
 of my life, if any of the Committee of Safety learn of 
 my taking such action. 
 
 We extract from a country paper, in the in- 
 terests of the mob, the following: 
 
 E. F. Dyer, late probate judge of Lake County, has 
 been killed. He was well known to have been the 
 associate and defender of midnight assassins, incen- 
 
316 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 diaries, and thieves, and to have been the vilifier of the 
 unfortunate wife of his friend Gibbs's victim. He was 
 requested to leave the county by a Vigilance Commit- 
 tee, composed of its best citizens. He returned, and 
 more than likely nothing more would have been said 
 about the matter, had he not on his own responsibility 
 issued warrants for the arrest of a party of men far 
 honester and more respectable than himself. Some- 
 body shot this sneaking scoundrel, and now the 
 Denver press raise a great hubbub about the death 
 of this injured innocent, and the governor offers a 
 reward of two hundred dollars for the discovery of 
 that friend of the people who finished Dyer's earthly 
 career. 
 
 Now let us draw another picture. A Negro is 
 captured by the police of Denver, supposed to be 
 guilty of burglary ; he is tortured to make him con- 
 vict himself, and suddenly disappears under circum- 
 stances more than suspicious. He is said to have 
 escaped from two well-armed officers. Bah! Every- 
 body thinks that unfortunate Negro was murdered 
 by the officers of the law while trying to extort a 
 further confession from him. Why is not this mur- 
 der investigated ? Where is Governor Rouatt's reward 
 for this Negro's murderer, and why is it that but 
 one Denver newspaper is independent enough to 
 talk freely about the affair? The motes in our 
 neighbor's eyes are always larger than the beams 
 in our own. 
 
 Come, gentlemen of the Denver press, bring a 
 pressure to bear, and let us have an investigation as 
 to who killed that Negro. The sins of the citizens 
 of other portions of the Territory are freely discussed 
 in your ably edited sheets; now let us hear about the 
 misdeeds of your own officers of the law. 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 317 
 
 ANOTHER LETTER FROM McPHERSON. 
 
 SOUTH ARKANSAS, Coi,., September 5, 1875. 
 REV. J. L. DYER : 
 
 DEAR SIR, It is a long time since I have written 
 to you not since your last one to me; and that one 
 I thought a little rough. It would not be rough for 
 publication ; but written to me personally, I could 
 not see where it fitted at all, as I took no hand in any 
 of the troubles, pro or con, whatever may have been 
 my views; and my opinion was, and is now, .that 
 Gibbs knew all about the killing of Harrington; and 
 I so expressed myself. A man can not help his con- 
 victions, and you yourself can not condemn a person 
 for his honest convictions, even if they sometimes 
 prove erroneous. 
 
 Never having mixed with our troubles, last winter 
 or since, why was I spotted by your son for arrest, 
 which is seen on his docket? but I did not know until after 
 his death that I was marked for one of his victims. 
 
 I merely remarked that I did not mix myself up 
 in the trouble; and I will qualify that remark by say- 
 ing, that when United States Deputy Marshal Cook 
 came in here last winter, I did go down to Mr. Bale's 
 to see him, where I found a large crowd who came for 
 the same purpose, some of whom were still hostile to 
 the Gibbs faction. Some said: "This thing has gone 
 far enough. Let us old fellows try and stop it, and 
 have no more of it." 
 
 Among those taking this view of the case, and 
 favoring peace, and opening the door to let the exiles 
 return to their respective homes, thus putting things 
 back where they were before, were old Mr. Spaulding, 
 Sheriff Weldon, John Burnett, Peter Caruth, Joseph 
 Hutchinson, Mr. Newman, Noah Baer, Thomas Cam- 
 eron, myself, and a number of others. Mr. Bale did not 
 make his appearance at the meeting, but said it was all 
 
318 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 right, and that he had no confidence that the exiles 
 would return and keep quiet. But the balance of us 
 concluded it best to give them a show. Many of them 
 returned, and were not molested in the least. 
 
 I am afraid, Mr. Dyer, that the best counsel your 
 son was taking at Denver proved his death, for he no 
 doubt acted after the counsel of older and more ex- 
 perienced heads than his own. Be that as it may, he 
 was killed in the court-roon as I am informed, for I 
 was not there no doubt by one or two fanatics. The, 
 people did not kill him, nor do I believe that any person 
 of sound mind supposed that the people had any hand 
 in his murder. Then, why are the whole population 
 of Lake County threatened that they will be bush- 
 whacked? "Punish the guilty" is a law of human 
 nature; but why wreak vengeance on the innocent? 
 
 Ninety-nine hundredths of the people of Lake 
 County deplore the death of your son, and also de- 
 plore the action of the Committee of Safety last 
 winter. For my own part, the news of your son's 
 death struck me with horror and consternation. I 
 thought of his poor bereaved father. I am a father, 
 and can imagine what your feelings were; and I pray 
 to God that I may be preserved from a like situation ! 
 A son shot down like a dog by the bullet of a secret 
 assassin or assassins is awful even to think of. All 
 these things are sure to come to light sooner or later. 
 "Vengeance is mine, and I will repay, saith the Lord." 
 Crimes never go unpunished; but the good Lord does 
 not always square his accounts in a minute. He takes 
 his own good time, and his ways are not as our ways. 
 Your son's murderer or murderers will be found out 
 and punished, sooner or later. 
 
 We are told that Gibbs and his friends intend to 
 come in here and bushwhack. Well, suppose they do, 
 and kill a few, or burn the buildings of one or two 
 
L,AKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 319 
 
 citizens. The consequence would be that a reward 
 would be offered for Gibbs dead or alive, and the 
 people here will contribute, if necessary, ten thou- 
 sand dollars over and above what the county would 
 give, besides the Territorial reward; and the conse- 
 quence would be that Gibbs and his band would all 
 be gobbled, and many innocent people suffer. I do 
 not know that even yourself would be very safe. 
 
 Recollect, I am only supposing what would be the 
 condition of things were such a thing to take place, 
 knowing the fearful determination of the people here 
 to repel an invasion, either secret or public. But I can 
 safely assure you that no one will be molested here 
 who is peaceable and attends to his own affairs; but 
 the stirrer up of strife and midnight assassin will not be 
 safe here. It appears so, at least. But do not infer from 
 this that I indorse mob-law, for I assure you I do not. 
 
 I understand you had secretly paid this county a 
 visit ; but w r e did not see you in this end of the county. 
 I assure you that you would be as welcome as ever, 
 and you always have been welcome at our house, what- 
 ever you may have thought to the contrary recently. 
 
 Remember us kindly to your family. My wife 
 desires to be kindly remembered to you, and you 
 have her heart-felt sympathy in your recent great be- 
 reavement. Yours, as ever, very respectfully, 
 
 J. McPnERSON. 
 
 Mr. McPherson was appointed probate judge. 
 The mob took the lead in this selection, and also 
 in that of the grand jury. The first panel, they 
 were afraid, was not surely for them. Directly it 
 was lost. One of the men said he could give 
 every name, and he proceeded, leaving out two or 
 three whom they did not want, substituting others 
 in their place. 
 
32O SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Mr. George Henderson administered on my 
 son's estate. It was thought that one thousand 
 dollars would pay all debts. I sold his interest 
 in the Dyer Mine to H. A. W. Tabor for three 
 thousand dollars, in three payments. The first 
 payment was covered by claims, which we allowed. 
 When the second and third payments were ready, 
 bills just covering them were conveniently at 
 hand. It was too plain. I sent to the adminis- 
 trator for the last accounts, and knew that some 
 of them were unjust, and suspected the balance. 
 Samuel my only surviving son took Judge 
 dough, a good attorney, and they went over and 
 looked into the business. Judge McPherson and 
 the claimants were very saucy. Judge Clough 
 showed where they had all overreached or failed 
 to go according to law, and the administrator and 
 his securities could be held responsible. He pro- 
 posed to remove the case to another county, and 
 proceed against them. This scared them, and 
 they dropped all claims, and let the estate be 
 closed up at once. Judge Clough afterwards told 
 me that they had counted close, for their bills 
 were just a thousand dollars exactly covering 
 the payment. 
 
 It may seem strange that I have never taken 
 active steps to bring my son's murderers to jus- 
 tice. The combination of the guilty and their 
 friends was very strong, as the facts above recited 
 plainly show. To have successfully combated it 
 would have required more money than I could 
 command. Besides, the county was comparatively 
 
LAKE COUNTY OUTRAGES. 321 
 
 poor, and the trials would have entailed large 
 costs, so that the tax-payers dreaded and discour- 
 aged the prosecution. But after the Leadville 
 boom, when the county had grown rich and strong, 
 
 encouraged by Mr. Hayden, one of my son's 
 
 best friends, and who was the last with him be- 
 fore the murder, I fully purposed to make the at- 
 tempt. The mob, however, never ceased to fear; 
 and so influenced the division of the county, and 
 had Chaffee set off, in which once more they were 
 in the majority. 
 
 It is not likely they will ever in this world be 
 brought before any tribunal, save that of their 
 own consciences. But murder, unlike debt, is 
 never outlawed. Detectives have taken interest 
 in it. It may be that vengeance is only sleeping. 
 
322 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 OUR WORK ENLARGED. 
 
 OUR conference for 1876 was held at Boulder 
 City, by Bishop Harris, a good-spirited 
 Christian gentleman. I had great respect for him 
 as a clear-headed man. He was always chosen 
 secretary of all deliberative bodies of which he 
 was a member. When things got twisted up, he 
 had a way of untangling them speedily and pleas- 
 antly. While we had a few moments of talk at 
 the conference, he said to me : " I see you have 
 had hard work the year past, as well as trouble; 
 and you are talked of for a charge where you will 
 have to move one hundred miles by wagon. I 
 will not direct a man as old as you are to move 
 so far, without at least asking him if he is willing 
 to go." I suppose it was the more noticeable, be- 
 cause it had never been said to me on this wise 
 before. 
 
 I was sent to Fair Play and Alma, and had sev- 
 eral preaching-places besides. It was quite a cir- 
 cuit, and Brother A. J. Smith was appointed by 
 the elder to travel with me. He gave promise of 
 being a good helper; but after a month or two, 
 owing to business complications, left me to take 
 charge of a ranch, and I had another year with 
 plenty to do. The year previous, the work was 
 almost ruined by bickerings and trouble. It took 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 323 
 
 the most of this year to make peace. We had 
 but little advance in Church matters. An eight- 
 days' meeting at Alma resulted in good. I lived 
 six miles distant, and rode home after service, for 
 lack of invitation to stay. One night I paid my 
 fare at a hotel. The next day some one found 
 how it was, and gave them a talk. That night I 
 had about forty hearers, and three invitations to 
 stay. This was the thaw that broke the ice. 
 Hospitality has abounded ever since. 
 
 I had a famous climb up Mt. Lincoln. Mine 
 after mine had been opened in that region. The 
 Dolly Varden, working quite a force ; the Moose, 
 with scores of miners ; the Russia, with twenty, 
 and at the base of the mountain was Dudley, a 
 village with a furnace. A number of preachers, 
 including some bishops, had passed that way, 
 wonder-hunting; but apparently the thought of 
 preaching to the cliff-dwellers never entered their 
 minds. It was, indeed, an achievement to ascend 
 Mt. Lincoln, one of the highest Rocky Mountain 
 peaks. One large company of climbers had put 
 their names in a box which they had elevated on 
 a tall " liberty pole." Governor Bross was so en- 
 thused that he sang the doxology. Thenceforth 
 the boys called one peak of Lincoln, Mt. Bross. 
 
 I concluded that I would go up and preach. 
 On Tuesday I started on foot five miles to the first 
 mine. Just as I got above timber, the wind met 
 me with a heavy squall of snow, and, although it 
 was some time till night, the air was soon so thick 
 with snow that I could not see from one telegraph- 
 
324 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 pole to another. I wished the wire had been put 
 six feet from the ground, then I could have held 
 to it. As it was, I felt along the wagon ruts, and 
 could only go a few feet at a time without bracing 
 myself on my pole, and resting for breath. It was 
 almost impossible to make headway against the 
 wind and snow coming down the mountain. 
 
 The road went close to the dump of the Dolly 
 Varden mine and the shaft-house and boarding- 
 house. It was so dark I could not see even the 
 dump; but as I turned my face back to rest, I 
 had got past the house and above the dump. I 
 thought the house must be close. I saw the 
 sparks come out of the chimney, and was only 
 three rods from it. My face was dripping with 
 thawing snow, and my strength nearly exhausted. 
 I was let into Mr. Hall's room, the superintendent 
 of the mine. He seemed surprised that I had got 
 through, although he had given out the appoint- 
 ment for me. He made me welcome, and as I 
 started into the dining-room, surprised me by 
 putting a five-dollar bill into my hand. I tried 
 to preach to eleven hearers. Ten of the number 
 each laid down a dollar on the table, and that, 
 too, without being asked. 
 
 The next day I called at the Moose mine, 
 where there were sixty men. I told the cook I 
 was on a preaching excursion, and would be there 
 the next night to talk to them. He said he would 
 tell the men. I went on to Australia, the highest 
 mine worked, within three hundred feet of the top 
 of Mt. Lincoln, where I found twenty men. I had 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 325 
 
 a good visit with the superintendent, and preached 
 to them. They were very attentive and respectful, 
 but forgot to carry around the hat. On my way 
 back, I preached to about forty-five ; had good at- 
 tention, and when the benediction was pronounced, 
 one of the number passed a hat, and took up six- 
 teen dollars. Before this, the storm was over, and 
 I was ready to go home to Fair Play. 
 
 We give this trip in full, as it was the first 
 preaching on Mt. Lincoln. I was back several 
 times; but, otherwise, services have been few. I 
 want to say here, that in my experience of almost 
 twenty-seven years, I do not remember an instance 
 where a miner or prospector came to my preach- 
 ing who did not behave himself; and I predict 
 that that mountain will be mined for a century to 
 come. I continued on this circuit till the close of 
 the year, preaching nearly four times a week all 
 over Park County, and a few times in Summit. 
 
 There was one occasion when the snow was 
 quite deep. It was at the time of a wedding, 
 when Mr. Charles Walker and Mrs. Miller were 
 married, about fourteen thousand feet above the sea- 
 level. It was at a saw-mill. My old friend, Mr. 
 Hoope, with Gilbert Havens and others, were on 
 hand, with a double bob-sled. When we got well 
 up in the timber, we met a four-horse team and 
 sled. On either side were logs and snow, five 
 feet high. I thought to pass, but we could not. 
 Neither sled could back. A collision seemed to 
 be inevitable. Bight horses were between the 
 sleds. Fortunately, the company that met us had 
 
326 SNOE-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 the couple with them, they having despaired of 
 my arriving on time. They got out, and the boys 
 unhooked the horses, lifted the sled up on its edge, 
 got the horses back, uncoupled, turned around, and 
 got us to the house a little late, but all right. 
 The couple were yoked in matrimonial bonds in 
 the presence of a jolly set of boys, and of one 
 lady besides. This was nearer the stars than any 
 wedding I had ever witnessed. The couple still 
 live and love each other; and by that we may 
 suppose, the higher the place, the better the wed- 
 ding. The groom was so well pleased that he 
 handed me twenty-five dollars. That marriage in 
 those mountain woods was a grand social time, 
 never to be forgotten, and that too without whisky, 
 fiddle, or dancing. 
 
 At the conference of 1877 I asked for a super- 
 numerary relation, which the brethren granted. 
 But I preached occasionally, and made my own 
 living. I held this relation till the conference at 
 Pueblo, in 1879, when I was made effective, and 
 appointed to Breckenridge Circuit. I had spoken 
 of that county, and its need of a preacher, but 
 when I heard my name read out, with no mission- 
 ary appropriation, to an entirely outside and new 
 work, I felt hurt. To be sent to the hardest cir- 
 cuit at my time of life, and not on an equal foot- 
 ing with other preachers of the conference, was 
 rough on me, and unfeeling in those who sent 
 me. But my old-time loyalty stood me in hand, 
 and I concluded to go and do the best I could 
 for a year. 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 327 
 
 The cabinet named the circuit after the county, 
 and the presiding elder did not know where to 
 address a letter to me. Probably he did not know 
 the size of the county, which, beginning forty-five 
 miles west of Denver, extends to Utah, and north 
 to Wyoming. Since then seven counties have 
 been made out of it ; and in all of them there are, 
 at this writing, only two preachers of our Church, 
 and they are supplies. 
 
 I had been only four weeks on the circuit when 
 the Ute Indians killed Father Meeker and several 
 others, took his wife and daughter prisoners, and 
 scared almost everybody, so that many settlers 
 left. The excitement crossed the range ; for, some- 
 how, people will get more excited and run quicker 
 in an Indian scare than they would if Lucifer 
 was right in sight. For instance, at Alma, when 
 the people were badly perplexed what to do, a 
 man got some whisky in him, and concluded to 
 give the people a scare. So he shot a hole in his 
 coat, and rode through town, crying at the top of 
 his voice : " The Indians are coming, two or three 
 hundred strong! Everybody will be killed!" 
 The men were frightened, and began to gather 
 the teams to carry passengers; every horse, mule, 
 and jack was bridled and saddled. Pack-saddles 
 were in demand. Women, frantic with fear, used 
 every sort of conveyance ; scarcely bonneted, they 
 rode sometimes two on a pony, not particular if 
 both feet were not 'on one side. Many also went 
 on foot. The motley crowd whipped past each 
 other, their eyes almost popping out with fear, 
 
328 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 all bound for Fair Play. Before they got there, 
 the people of Fair Play had heard the news, and 
 leaving their houses, fled to the big, stone court- 
 house. But here were coming all of the popula- 
 tion of Alma. And now the women wanted a fort 
 built of the cord-wood, and some of the men to 
 go and see if the Indians were near. None 
 doubted but they were near. And now before 
 the volunteer scouts could start see husband and 
 wife embracing each other, as they supposed for 
 the last time on earth; and some on their knees 
 praying, that had never been seen to pray before ! 
 The reason of all this was that they believed the 
 report that the Indians were just behind, with 
 tomahawk and scalping-knife. 
 
 I have always thought if an old-fashioned 
 evangelist had been there he might have had a 
 profitable prayer-meeting. "But," says a friend, 
 "I don't believe in excitement." But I do; a 
 man or woman must be excited enough to start 
 them in any cause. Men must believe there is 
 danger, or they will not start. This is the reason 
 that our Savior gave the awful doctrine of damna- 
 tion without repentance, as well as all the invita- 
 tions of the gospel. Both the threatenings and 
 persuasions must be presented. Hence, convic- 
 tions are slight, and conversions are not so clear 
 as they ought to be, when our preachers, instead 
 of showing a sinner his danger, "snugly keep 
 damnation out of sight." I hold that a minister 
 ought to present both sides, so that the sinner 
 shall fear the torments of hell as much as he 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 329 
 
 desires the glories of heaven. Many will never come 
 unless they are first alarmed. 
 
 But to return. The Indians were not within 
 a hundred miles. The news reached Governor 
 Pitkin at Denver, that they had burned Brecken- 
 ridge to ashes. He telegraphed to some one to 
 send men across the range to see if it w r as so. 
 They came in the night. We, being in the out- 
 side cabin, heard a noise, but did not know what 
 made the stir; and it being election-day, supposed 
 that to be the cause. So we slept well, while 
 guards were being put out down Blue River to 
 protect the town. Several of the women and chil- 
 dren were sent to Denver. And all the while the 
 Indians were keeping themselves as far off in the 
 south-west as possible. 
 
 Father Meeker, as he was familiarly called, 
 was a man of good mind, and everybody that 
 knew him loved him. He was progressive, and 
 did all he could for the first colony at Greeley. 
 Then he was led to try to civilize the Ute Indi- 
 ans a worthy project, but in advance of the time. 
 To begin with, the Indians had never been sub- 
 dued or whipped. Every once in awhile they 
 would kill a white man, and manage to get off. 
 As in any other sinner, so is human nature in 
 them ; unless they fear, they will destroy. The 
 government of course made a raid on them; lost 
 more men and mules and money than they did 
 harm to the Utes. Still they scared them into 
 giving up prisoners -and land, and surrendering 
 two or three bucks. Government did little or 
 
 28 
 
330 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 nothing with the bucks; yet murders that they had 
 committed were worth more than the lives of the 
 whole tribe. 
 
 It has always looked to a Western man that the 
 Eastern people cared more for the filthiest red-skin 
 than for a decent white man. They seemed to 
 forget that the soil on which they themselves raise 
 their bread had been taken from the " poor In- 
 dians." 
 
 Our white population got over their scare, and 
 came back, and all was quiet again. During all 
 this time we kept up our appointments in about a 
 dozen mining-camps. The snow fell deep. Our 
 stages went on runners, hauled by four horses. I 
 rode at half fare. The line from Georgetown by 
 Loveland Pass to Leadville, with its branches, car- 
 ried me to most of the camps. The stages were 
 generally full, and to be turned over and all 
 thrown out into the snow was not uncommon. I 
 was overset seven times during the winter, but, 
 through the goodness of God, was not hurt. I 
 went over as far as Carbonateville, Robinson, and 
 Kokomo, south-west, and to Decatur, north-east. 
 In January my wife was taken down suddenly with 
 neuralgia in the head, and her life was almost 
 despaired of for a week ; but, by God's mercy and 
 Dr. Hendrick's skill and good care, she came 
 through all right in a month, so that I could go 
 around again on my work. 
 
 In February I held a protracted meeting in 
 Kokomo. The first night I finally found lodging 
 at an inn. After traveling most of the day and 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 331 
 
 preaching at night, I was weary, and was shown 
 to my room. There was a small room near by, 
 with a stove and table and cards. The door be- 
 tween was partly open. Soon two young couples 
 came up, and began a game of cards. They were 
 full of noisy fun. Evidently the boys beat, and I 
 supposed the game was what they called smut, as 
 the girls would not stand the application, and ran 
 up the hall, the boys after them. I supposed they 
 smutted them, and went back and at it again. I 
 got no sleep till after midnight. In my reflections 
 it was a serious matter to think how I could suc- 
 ceed under such usage as this ; but I concluded to 
 hold on and try. 
 
 I got some needed sleep and rest toward morn- 
 ing ; breakfasted, and paid my bill. The snow 
 was six feet deep. I started out to visit families 
 and bachelors' cabins. Several said if they had a 
 place to keep me I would be welcome. I came to 
 a Mr. Thomas, a Welsh Congregationalist. I 
 thought he was better than our Yankees of the 
 same Church. I went into his cabin, six feet high 
 at the eaves ; snow all arottnd and six feet on top. 
 There were steps in the snote^tp get out to the 
 street. He had a spare mattress irKpne corner on 
 the floor, which he offered me if I woulcSnot be in- 
 sulted by it. I told him the past night's ex- 
 perience, and that his mattress would be most 
 grateful. 
 
 At this place I made my abode for two weeks, 
 eating with the bachelors and among the people, 
 visiting in the daytime, and preaching every night 
 
332 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 to an average of seventy-five people. A constant 
 storm prevailed. I formed a society of sixteen ; 
 one or two joining by letter, and some from other 
 denominations. In the spring they built quite a 
 chapel for the place. But owing to the town's 
 decline, it is now out of use. 
 
 From there I went back to Breckenridge, which 
 shortly experienced a characteristic mining boom.- 
 A report was spread that about Breckenridge were 
 immense bodies of gold quartz and carbonates, 
 three feet deep. People of all classes came across 
 the range, and, of course, the inevitable dance- 
 house, with degraded women, fiddles, bugles, and 
 many sorts of music, came too. There was a 
 general hubbub from dark to daylight. The 
 weary could hardly rest. Claims were staked out 
 everywhere, and the prospector thought nothing 
 of shoveling five feet of snow to start a shaft. 
 Saloons, grocery-stores, carpenter-shops, and every 
 kind of business sprang up, including stamp-mills 
 and smelters. All classes were excited beyond 
 all good sense. Town-lots, that could have been 
 bought before at twenty-five to fifty dollars, 
 brought fifteen hundred dollars. Corrals, log- 
 heaps, and brush-thickets were all turned into 
 town-lots. Those owning ground thought it worth 
 ten times more than it was. The excitement was 
 almost as great as when they thought the Indians 
 were coming. The preacher thought it time to se- 
 cure a lot for a church. He canvassed all the 
 town ; but none had a lot to give. One was offered 
 away out, but was refused. Giving a back-lot for a 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 333 
 
 church had played out with me. In the fall I 
 bought a lot and a cabin. It was about one hun- 
 dred and fifty feet deep by fifty wide. The Town 
 Company undertook to change the survey and 
 take about two-thirds of it from me under pre- 
 tense that the county had a claim on it. They 
 even undertook to fence k up ; but when they be- 
 gan, I began too. I hired men to put in posts ; but 
 as soon as I turned my back they came to my men, 
 within forty feet of my house, and told them they 
 would send an officer and arrest them. My hands 
 quit. After dinner I went to digging post-holes 
 myself. The Town Company's representative 
 came with two witnesses, and warned me to stop 
 work. I never laid down my pick, but told him 
 I was a man, and a law-abiding man at that, and 
 his were as good witnesses as I wanted; and I 
 warned him before them to keep off my lot and 
 to leave. By this time the witnesses started, and 
 he followed. He was the company's commis- 
 sioner; and was very good when he found he 
 could not bulldoze me. I gave half my lot to the 
 trustees to build a church on. We carried a sub- 
 scription paper till I got enough to start on ; and 
 went to the saw-mills, got all the lumber I could, 
 and we went to work and put up a house twenty- 
 five by fifty feet, posts sixteen feet high, and in- 
 closed it. I nailed the first shingle, and did more 
 work on it than any other man. 
 
 While I went to conference the friends finished 
 the roof and put the floor down ; and the next 
 Sunday we had service in the first church on the 
 
334 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 Western Slope in our conference, with a good or- 
 gan. We had had no aid as yet from the Church 
 Extension Society, which gave two hundred and 
 fifty dollars after I left. This was a year of toil, 
 and no pay to speak of about two hundred dol- 
 lars was all; and I paid traveling expenses, and 
 did more hard work than I ever did before, take 
 it altogether. I left about thirty-five members. 
 Including the lot, the church cost me all of three 
 hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 In 1877 I was made supernumerary. At the 
 conference held by Bishop S. M. Merrill at 
 Pueblo in 1879, m Y relation was changed to ef- 
 fective, and I was appointed to Breckenridge. 
 The year's work I have already related. At its 
 close, the conference was held by Bishop H. W. 
 Warren at Georgetown, in the fall of 1880. It 
 was an enjoyable session. It was the bishop's 
 first conference. Feeling the pressure of years 
 and labors, I asked and was granted a superan- 
 nuate relation. 
 
 I returned to Breckenridge, where the boom 
 had begun in March. In about a year most of 
 the excitement in town-lots had passed over; and 
 in eighteen months building had quit, and not 
 long after a fire burned a block, and the camp went 
 down. There has been no building since to speak 
 of, and town-lots have gone back as fast as they 
 went up. 
 
 As conference gave me no help, and the people 
 but little the members being poor I put in all 
 my time at work in some way. Being well 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 335 
 
 acquainted with the mountains and mining, I was 
 paid good wages for locating claims. When the 
 snow was deep, I went on snow-shoes, always 
 feeling that a preacher had a right to earn his 
 living if he could not get it by preaching; but no 
 right to leave his charge. I could preach three 
 and four times, and work three or four days in the 
 week. In fact, I sometimes earned more by moon- 
 shine labors than I could by preaching. In the 
 summer of this year my wife boarded some men, 
 and helped in that way. 
 
 Brother J. F. Coffman followed me. Conference 
 gave him two hundred dollars to start with. He 
 staid three years, and having the office of school 
 superintendent, made out to live. The unsettled 
 condition of mining-camps is unfavorable to the 
 keeping up of religious societies. 
 
 My practical knowledge, as before stated, made 
 my services as a locater in demand. Some- 
 times I gave them to deserving young fellows, 
 whom fortune had used roiighly. Two such were 
 Candell and Thompson. In the spring of 1880 
 they came to me for information. Snow was more 
 than knee-deep. They were out of money, ex- 
 cept enough to board them a few days, and put 
 up a log pen, ten or twelve feet square, just large 
 enough for them to stand up in and make a 
 stopping-place. The next thing was a job of 
 work. I was employed to sink holes on some 
 claims, to hold them, and gave them employment. 
 I bought tools for them, and we started up the 
 mountains, I leading. Soon the trail gave out, 
 
336 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 and we broke a path in snow waist deep. We car- 
 ried picks, shovels, tent, and blankets. It was hard 
 climbing for the boys; but they said: "If that old 
 man can get there, we must." And we did. I 
 showed them where to dig. That day they had a 
 shaft three feet deep, and slept in it at night. 
 
 They worked for some time, making fair 
 wages say three dollars per day and then they 
 and myself took up some ground in company. 
 They also continued to work and prospect for 
 themselves through the summer. Thompson 
 found some float mineral, and followed it up to 
 where it came up to the grass roots, and sunk a 
 hole on it ten feet deep, and threw out several 
 hundred pounds of rich mineral, gray copper, 
 worth five hundred dollars to the ton. He staked 
 his claim one hundred and fifty by one thousand 
 five hundred feet. He did not know how rich it 
 was, and let one Parkison have a fourth interest 
 for one hundred dollars, and would have sold the 
 balance for two hundred and fifty dollars, but his 
 man failed to come to time. He kept the location 
 a secret. I had not asked him where it was, but 
 said: "You have got on my claim, I suspect." 
 He replied: "You have no claim up there." I 
 answered: "I prospected up there three years ago, 
 and left my shovel to hold my claim." "Where 
 is your claim?" he said. I inquired if he had been 
 at the head of a certain ditch. "Yes," was his 
 answer. "Well," I replied, "my claim crosses 
 about thirty rods above that." "My claim," he 
 said, "is not within three hundred feet of that." 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 337 
 
 I rode up, and found my shovel; and just up 
 the hill-side I saw his corner stake, and followed 
 to his works. I was pleased with his show for a 
 lode, and was glad for his sake. Seeing the 
 ground was vacant on each side of his claim, 
 before I left I staked one claim south and four 
 north of it. Unable to do the work myself, I took 
 two or three pieces of his ore home with me, and 
 told an assay er where it came from, and that I 
 had staked the ground adjoining; and as I had 
 to attend to my church building, proposed to let 
 him go in with me, if he liked the show; he to do 
 my work for an interest. He went, and was pleased, 
 and we made a contract. He looked at Mr. 
 Thompson's prospect, and wanting some one to do 
 the work, I suggested Thompson, as he would want 
 to keep an eye on his own claim. He said nothing 
 about buying the claim. When Thompson came 
 in to our house, I told him they wanted to see him ; 
 and knowing that he had offered his claim for two 
 hundred and fifty dollars, advised him, if they 
 wanted to buy him out, not to sell for nothing. 
 My wife named a thousand dollars, as it was easier 
 to fall than to raise. He went and asked 
 them twelve hundred; but they offered him a 
 thousand, ten per cent down, and the rest in sixty 
 days. He returned in a few minutes with his hun- 
 dred dollars, and said it was the first time he had 
 ever had that much at once. Then they wanted 
 to see Mr. Parkinson, but told Thompson not to 
 tell how he sold. Mrs. Dyer said: u You tell Mr. 
 Parkinson to come here as he goes, and I will post 
 
 29 
 
338 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 him." He came, and then sold his fourth for five 
 hundred dollars, ten per cent down. There were 
 four of the company, and so they had the big thing, 
 and by doing the work agreed on three-fourths 
 of mine also. 
 
 The ore was very rich from low grade to a 
 thousand dollars a ton. But one of the parties as- 
 sayed some of it, and showed me the certificate. 
 It was so low that I never said a word to Mr. 
 Thompson about it. I was disappointed in it. If 
 anybody knew it was rich, it was those who bought 
 it. In a day it was all over the camp that the boys 
 had been swindled, the ore being fabulously rich. 
 And, as a matter of course, the discoverers felt bad 
 over the loss of a good thing. Everybody asked why 
 they did not have it assayed. Because they had 
 no money to pay on a risk, as but very few had 
 received any benefit by the assays, and many con- 
 sidered it money out. Parties told them they were 
 swindled, and that the sale could be set aside, 
 and that on certain conditions they would have it 
 done. What those conditions were I never knew. 
 They were not to have anything except they could 
 prove fraud, and so get the property back. So 
 they went to law. 
 
 I had been asked by the assayer if I wished to 
 have some of the Warrior's Mark ore assayed. I 
 replied: "No; I have no interest in the lode." 
 Afterwards he called me in and showed me his 
 report on it, and it was lower than I had thought 
 possible. I thought no more about it at the time, 
 until after the sale. When they had me on the 
 
OUR WORK ENLARGED. 339 
 
 witness-stand, they questioned me as to the assay 
 I had seen. I told them what I knew of it. 
 "Did you tell either of the parties before the 
 sale?" "No." "Why did you not tell them?" 
 "Because I was taken back, and thought it would 
 do them no good." This showed that they were 
 not influenced by the assay. So the purchasers 
 held the diggings, and the poor boys got no more. 
 They were advised to compromise with the first 
 party, but they would not. 
 
 Now the company go to work, but soon winter 
 is on, and snow anywhere from five to eight feet 
 deep. Some good mineral was raised; but the 
 water was strong, and they concluded to sell. 
 The price was put at three hundred thousand 
 dollars for the whole, including 'my interest. I 
 was to have eight thousand, five hundred. About 
 the ist of January, 1881, I began work on a log 
 house. Had a good horse and sled, six miles 
 away, at Breckenridge. Selected a place to build, 
 and taking my horse, with chain and whiffle-tree, 
 went eight rods, mid-sides in snow, and dragged 
 in the first tree. And so, cutting and hauling 
 logs, and going back home each day, returning to 
 work in the morning with lumber, I finished my 
 house. It was seventeen feet by seventeen, a story 
 and a half in height, shingle roof, two floors, and 
 doors. By the I9th of February I moved my wife 
 and the last of our goods. By that time I had a 
 hole against the bank in the snow to stable my 
 horse. Laid poles on the snow, and put pine- 
 brush for roof, and he was comfortable till his slab 
 
340 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 stable was built. We were within a half mile of 
 the Warrior's Mark Lode, which was the center 
 of attraction for mining experts and speculators. 
 Men would corne, and look, and send experts; and 
 then others would come. All wished to make 
 money. Some would levy blackmail, under threats 
 of spoiling the sale. After all the efforts, the 
 property was not sold. 
 
 The weather becoming good, they hired a super- 
 intendent and about fifty men, and resumed work. 
 In six months they took out, as well as I could 
 learn, between seventy-five and eighty thousand 
 dollars. During this time, they stocked the prop- 
 erty at three millions. After one dividend, it 
 failed to pay any more for a time under the man- 
 agement. I took ten thousand dollars in stock for 
 my part. At this time I began to look at the 
 stock system, and concluded to let that be the 
 last stock I would ever have anything to do with 
 in mining. For these reasons : First, the amount is 
 put at three times its worth; second, there are 
 directors, clerks, and treasurer, president, superin- 
 tendent, and bosses, all on pay, besides the hands. 
 These, with mismanagement, wire-working, whisky, 
 cards, and fancy women, beat the average lode. 
 After several attempts to get pay out of the mine, 
 a man took the property to work. He had secured 
 more than half the stock, and had the control. 
 He bought mine. I realized two thousand dollars. 
 
 I have given this sketch to show some of the 
 difficulties of prospecting, selling, or running a 
 mine. Yet mining is the business of the country. 
 
DENVER METHODISM. 341 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DENVER METHODISM. 
 
 IN April I secured Sister Van Cott for a week, 
 and there could not have been a more general 
 interest awakened among miners and citizens 
 than there was in Breckenridge. Every meeting 
 was well attended, and deep interest was shown 
 from the start. Twenty joined; some were re- 
 claimed and some converted, and the little society 
 was revived. If she could have stayed another 
 week, from all appearances, much more good would 
 have been accomplished. She held services twice 
 each day, and worked incessantly. 
 
 Our parsonage was a log house, and she 
 boarded with us. It was the first log house she 
 had ever stopped in. She picked off splinters 
 and sent them East as curiosities, and wrote that 
 she was comfortable, and the snow three feet 
 deep! She is a noble worker, and did more in 
 the time she was there than any preacher could 
 have done, everything considered. The people 
 gave her over one hundred dollars in money, and, 
 as she liked specimens of ore, all that she could 
 carry, besides about twenty dollars in pure gold, 
 in dust, nuggets, and wire. 
 
 From here I went to Leadville to conference. 
 Bishop Wiley ably presided. I had not then 
 realized anything for stock, and found it hard 
 
342 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 work to live, but felt that I must attend confer- 
 ence at any rate. It was a pleasant one, and, to 
 my grateful surprise, the brethren gave me the 
 Fifth Collection. I had promised one hundred 
 dollars to the Denver University. Found Brother 
 John A. dough, the treasurer, and paid it. Thus 
 the first Fifth Collection in the Colorado Confer- 
 ence went for Christian education. My own ad- 
 vantages had been limited, but I coveted the best 
 things for my children, and felt a profound interest 
 in our conference educational work. 
 
 I went back to Summit County Circuit, and, 
 having managed to live through the year, keep out 
 of debt, and be able to work, I was quite happy, 
 at an altitude of about ten thousand feet. I never 
 enjoyed myself better any place. 
 
 The following December we moved to Douglas 
 County, to our ranch, and tried to make a living, 
 but found it rather hard to do so at my age over 
 seventy. I milked seven cows, and had a garden. 
 I raised corn, oats, and buckwheat, and by dint 
 of hard work, made a living for two years. But 
 it disagreed with me. I became such an invalid 
 that I could not ride on horseback. Of course, 
 therefore, I could not make much of a cow-boy. 
 Some time in June we had a terrific hail-storm. 
 Our garden and corn looked nice, and all at once 
 the storm came hail and a little rain. My better- 
 half ran out with old pans and rags to cover the vines 
 and save her garden. The lightning was fright- 
 ful, and the cracking thunder so alarmed the old 
 lady that she ran into the house, pelted all the 
 
DENVER METHODISM. 343 
 
 way with big hail-stones. I was doing my best 
 to make the same shelter, but her tragic flight was 
 more than I could stand. I laughed the thunder 
 down. Yet it was well that she got in, for the 
 hail-stones were of all sizes, down to the size of 
 peas, and fell with sufficient force to split shingles 
 and break the windows. The ground was covered 
 to the depth of four inches. All our crop was cut 
 down even with the ground. The hail-covering 
 protected the roots of the corn, which grew again, 
 so that we had quite a crop of corn and fodder. 
 But few can realize the amount of water that falls 
 in such a storm. After all was clear, we heard a 
 noise up the creek, and saw the hail and water 
 coming about four feet up abreast, almost a per- 
 pendicular front, and another wave on top of that, 
 till it filled the banks full seven feet high, and it 
 plowed the creek-bed much wider than it was 
 before. 
 
 Having passed two summers on the ranch, I 
 was convinced that I was too old or too lazy to 
 work on a farm. I traded it for a house and lot 
 in Denver, and in November, 1885, moved to the 
 new home, Glenarm Street, No. 712. It had never 
 been my plan to live in Denver, but Providence 
 seemed to guide me there. I could not remain 
 idle. So, as the Legislature was to convene soon, 
 the thought struck me that I might be elected to 
 one of the chaplaincies. Hon. Melvin Edwards, 
 Secretary of State, advised me to seek the chap- 
 laincy of the Senate. I had been acquainted with 
 Mr. James Monahan, of Park County, for a long 
 
344 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 time, with Mr. Chilcott, of Pueblo, and Mr. Irving 
 Howbert, of Colorado Springs, and Mr. Wells, of 
 Douglas all old settlers and old members. I wrote 
 them, and received promises of their support. I 
 got there easily enough. The position was not 
 lucrative; but it gave me something to do, and I 
 served them as best I could. 
 
 In the spring I went to Breckenridge to look 
 after some interests. I found our Church without 
 a preacher, and told them I would stop and preach 
 for them till the presiding elder would supply 
 them. It resulted in my staying the year out. 
 The Church people were few in number, and hardly 
 any well-to-do. Such a place, I am sorry to say, 
 has few friends with the preachers. I tried to do 
 what I could for them. 
 
 It was two years before I was relieved. I 
 preached at Breckenridge twice on each Sunday, 
 and at Lincoln about once in two weeks; and on 
 week evenings at Montezuma, Dillon, Kokomo, 
 and Robinson, an average of four times a week. 
 There were three or four hundred people at Breck- 
 enridge, and the offices were well sprinkled with 
 gamblers and saloon-keepers. There were about 
 nine saloons, and all had card-tables. They had 
 been in the habit of taking the organ out of the 
 church to their balls. About dark one night I 
 heard something in the church, and ran out. A 
 wagon was backed up to the door, and the organ 
 was almost loaded. I objected, and was told that 
 they had leave from the officers of the Church. 
 But I was firm, and they left without it. I speak 
 
DENVER METHODISM. 345 
 
 of these things to show how little regard people 
 had for sacred things, and what a preacher had to 
 contend with, and the material he had to work on. 
 Some would say that such should not have the 
 gospel preached to them. But I think they ought 
 to have both love and gospel. I told them, in an 
 exhortation, that they were hair-hung and breath- 
 shaken over the gulf of eternal despair. "How- 
 beit, this kind goeth out only by prayer and 
 fasting.'' O, may God send men after his own 
 heart, who can thunder his wrath as well as dis- 
 play the glories of his' great salvation !. 
 
 This last two-years' term in Summit County 
 was commenced in my seventy-third year, and 
 closed in my seventy-sixth. I preached three and 
 a half times for each week. At this age I felt it 
 a tax on me too heavy to bear. But where can 
 rest be found? For an old man who has always 
 kept going, to stop is distressing, and time hangs 
 heavy on his mind. Only the grace of God and 
 the prospect of an eternal home can keep him in a 
 cheerful mood. 
 
 11 O, who would live alway, away from his God ?" 
 
 I proceed to give an account of the religious 
 beginnings of Denver. In the spring or early 
 summer of 1859 came Rev. Wm. H. Goode, of the 
 Methodist Episcopal Church, sent out to see and 
 report on the condition and wants of the Pike's 
 Peak country. He brought with him Adriance, a 
 young preacher who took charge of Denver, and 
 was the first appointed preacher in the country. 
 
346 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 But Rev. George W. Fisher, of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church, was here in advance of the 
 former, and preached the first sermon ever heard 
 in Denver. He was a respectable preacher and 
 loved by all that knew him. Little did he think 
 of the importance that would be attached to that 
 effort, it being the first gospel sound ever pro- 
 claimed in our Centennial State. It was an en- 
 viable privilege. Angels gave glory to God that 
 one of his servants had broken the silence of the 
 desert with the sound of salvation. 
 
 Although I have preached in more new towns 
 in Colorado than any man dead or alive, I would 
 freely give all in that line to have had Brother 
 Fisher's privilege to preach first in this State. 
 Brother Goode was a fine preacher and well re- 
 spected. When E. R. Ames was elected bishop it 
 was by only one vote over him. He was here a 
 short time, preaching in Denver and other places, 
 and then returned to Kansas. From that time 
 there have been regular services in Denver by our 
 preachers, including Sunday-school work. The 
 first Sunday-school was held in Brother Ritz's 
 house. All present but one or two were men. 
 One of the females told me she was then fourteen 
 years old and the youngest person there. 
 
 On the eighth day of May, 1860, Rev. John 
 M. Chivington, presiding elder, with his family, 
 came to Denver, and at once began to build. His 
 was the first brick dwelling-house in the place. 
 The house is standing in West Denver now, 
 No. . Rev. A. P. Allen, of Wisconsin, took 
 
DENVER METHODISM. 347 
 
 charge of the Denver work; Rev. Mr. Kenny was 
 sent in the spring of 1861, and had charge for one 
 year. At the conference held in Kansas in 1862 
 he was appointed for the second year to Denver, 
 and loaded his wagon to start across the Plains, 
 apparently in good health, but all at once was 
 taken sick and died in a few hours, ceasing to 
 labor on earth, we trust to rest in heaven. Rev. 
 B. C. Dennis was appointed presiding elder of the 
 Rocky Mountain District at the same conference, 
 and remained two years. He was a good man 
 and a fair preacher, but soon after left for Central 
 Illinois Conference, and has been a successful 
 preacher, and is still in the work. 
 
 Rev. O. A. Willard filled the Denver charge in 
 1862. He was appointed at the conference in 
 Kansas for the second year, and served till the 
 Rocky Mountain Conference was organized at 
 Denver in 1863, at which time he was appointed 
 presiding elder of Denver District. He was a 
 talented preacher. Rev. George G. Betts supplied 
 the Denver charge in 1863, and then went over to 
 the Episcopalians. He was followed by George 
 Richardson. He served Denver one year and 
 Georgetown one year, when he returned to the 
 Rock River Conference. Wm. M. Smith took the 
 Denver charge after Richardson, for one year, and 
 was succeeded by B. T. Vincent, who served the 
 charge three years. As our conference Minutes 
 give the appointments of all our preachers from 
 this time, we will write chiefly of Denver. Brother 
 John Cree, a local preacher, who still is with us, 
 
348 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 was the first Bible agent, and organized Bible 
 societies in different towns as well as Denver. 
 While he has not preached much of late, he is a 
 good Church worker and has been for twenty- 
 eight years. 
 
 Of the pioneer Methodists I remember W. D. 
 Pease, class-leader; H. Ritz, Conrad Frick, Mrs. 
 Chivington, Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Tynan, Governor 
 Evans and family, Governor Elbert, A. I. Gill, 
 and Peter Winne. Most of these were official 
 members. There were others, whose names I can 
 not call to mind, as I made only occasional visits 
 to Denver. 
 
 Brother Frick was anxious to have a German 
 Methodist Church organized, and at last was suc- 
 cessful. The prayers of our German brethren 
 have been answered. They have a good block of 
 ground in a central part of the city, with a fine 
 church-building, a good parsonage, with two other 
 houses to rent a property that would be a credit 
 to any denomination in the city with a pastor, 
 and a goodly number of members, and a fair con- 
 gregation. We glory in their prosperity. Our 
 people at first bought and fitted up a house for 
 worship on the bank of Cherry Creek, which was 
 washed away in 1864. Afterwards they built the 
 Lawrence Street Church ; and when it was finished 
 it was the largest church, as well as the tallest 
 building, in Denver. For these times it was a 
 great achievement for so small a membership. 
 Governor Evans, Governor Elbert, and Colonel 
 Chivington were first on the list of donors, while 
 
DENVER METHODISM. 349 
 
 most of the citizens were liberal, and all the mem- 
 bers did what they could. There was no collection 
 on dedication-day. From this time the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church took firm hold on society, and 
 with her Sunday-schools has been a power for 
 good. Colonel Chivington is an old man now, 
 and has great reason to be proud and thankful 
 for the part he took in planting Methodism in 
 Denver and Colorado. The Methodist Church is 
 also indebted to Ex-Governor Evans, for he has 
 helped all the societies, and in particular the 
 University of Denver, from first to last. I would 
 like to know how much he has paid. But if he 
 were asked, his modesty would not allow him to 
 count it up ; but I think his gifts may be said 
 to be more than forty thousand dollars to the 
 university alone. 
 
350 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 
 
 S before stated, I came to Denver without a 
 cent. A man Daniel Andrews, whom I had 
 not seen for twenty years called me by name. We 
 started in life on land within one-half mile of each 
 other. He now owned the Chicago House in 
 West Denver, and told me to make my home with 
 him while in the place. We had a good visit. 
 The first morning, as we were at breakfast, a man 
 came running in, his eyes bulged out and his 
 breath almost gone. He said Dr. Birdsall had 
 made a fire assay of some quartz from Black 
 Hawk that yielded such an amount of gold to the 
 ton ; and that he knew where he could get two or 
 three wagon-loads of quartz that would make all 
 he wanted. I understood this was the first fire 
 assay ever made in Denver, and to hear them all 
 talk, a tender-foot would think that in a short time 
 gold would not be worth more than pig-iron, it 
 would be so plenty. But seven years 1 work in the 
 lead-mines in Wisconsin had prepared me to be 
 cautious in swallowing such news. The only lodes I 
 heard of were the Gregory and Bobtail, near Black 
 Hawk. At the surface the mineral was decom- 
 posed, and the poor men hauled the dirt with a 
 bob-tailed ox (which gave the name to the lode), 
 and washed it out at the nearest water. This was 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 351 
 
 1859, eaf ly in the spring. They are working those 
 same lodes at the present time at a profit. With 
 these exceptions, the mining was all confined to, 
 gulches and placers. 
 
 The first gold discovered was at Russellville, 
 on Cherry Creek, thirty-five miles from Denver. 
 Some parties camping on Cherry Creek, under 
 some cottonwood trees, where West Denver now 
 stands, panned gold out of the sand in the creek. 
 That was a favorite resting-place, and was the 
 commencement of all that is called Denver City. 
 Russell and Spring Gulches were soon struck, near 
 Black Hawk and Central City, as well as the Idaho 
 branch of Clear Creek, Georgia Gulch, French and 
 Gold Run over the range, Tarryall, Fair Play and 
 California Gulch, and many others. It seemed 
 like a providence that these gulches were dis- 
 covered first, as there were no tools but picks and 
 shovels brought at first across the six hundred 
 miles of desert. By the close of 1862, most of the 
 richest pay was taken out; but some of the gulches 
 and placers are worked yet, and with profit after 
 the lapse of nearly thirty years. 
 
 Lodes were prospected for, and many were 
 found. But the miners' "toms" and sluice-boxes 
 had to be laid aside for stamp-mills suitable to 
 the crushing of quartz. Where the ore was rich, 
 the mills paid well, notwithstanding there were 
 but few men who knew much about the business. 
 Thousands of dollars were spent in trying pro- 
 cesses of different kinds. The ore was often re- 
 fractory, and no effort was made to save anything 
 
352 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 but the gold, until Professor N. P. Hill made a 
 visit to Colorado. He was the son of a farmer, 
 .but had worked his way through college, and be- 
 came professor. He came to examine and report on 
 the Gilpin Grant in San Luis Valley. Not far from 
 the same time, I had been requested to report on 
 the same grant. How near our reports agreed, I 
 am not able to say, but mine was to the effect 
 that the money in it was a long way in the future. 
 Somewhat behind the times, as usual with me. But 
 from my acquaintance with Governor Gilpin's early 
 ideas of our mines, as well as of the great resources 
 of Colorado, I suspect that he put the idea of ex- 
 amining the Gilpin County mines into Professor 
 Hill's head. He was favorably impressed. Many 
 of us thought Governor Gilpin a fanatic. If the 
 word " crank " had been in use at that time, we 
 would have called him a crank. I heard him say 
 in a speech once, that pur Rockies were ribbed 
 with gold, and that it would be found in mass and 
 position. Of course we made allowance, as an 
 extemporaneous speaker is hardly accountable for 
 many of his expressions. But after twenty-five 
 years of progress in Colorado, we are led to be- 
 lieve that there was much more truth than fiction 
 in his utterances. The governor still lives to see 
 the wonderful production of the mines, and the 
 many agricultural advancements of Colorado. 
 
 We must say that Colorado is greatly indebted 
 to Professor N. P. Hill. He was the first man 
 who conceived the possibility of working our re- 
 fractory ores to profit. His first move was in the 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 353 
 
 right direction, viz. : to go to Wales and see the 
 Swansea works, get all the information he could, 
 and secure men who were practical workmen in 
 the separation of the refractory ores. By this 
 means, silver, copper, and lead at least were saved. 
 In 1867 he organized the Boston and Colorado 
 Smelting Company, with, it is said, a cash capital 
 of two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. 
 He operated first at Black Hawk for several years, 
 and next at Alma, Park County. The results 
 must have been great, as he conceived the advan- 
 tage of moving to Denver, where at Argo he has 
 been operating for about ten years. The works 
 will astonish almost any one, their capacity is so 
 immense. I saw a report, said to have come from 
 their books, up to 1879, which shows over seven- 
 teen millions of the precious metals. 
 
 In 1887 the Argo works reported over three 
 millions; Omaha and Grant's works over five 
 millions from Colorado ores. The most promi- 
 nent of our smelters are the Holden Works, the 
 Pueblo Smelting and Refining Works, the Colo- 
 rado Smelting Company at Pueblo, the Arkansas 
 Valley Smelter, the Harrison Reduction Works, 
 American Smelting Company, and the Manville 
 Smelting Works, Leadville. 
 
 After deducting ores from other States and 
 Territories that were treated at the different works 
 in Colorado, the sum of over twenty-four millions 
 is left for the year 1887. This shows only the 
 gold, silver, lead, and copper. In 1886 there was 
 reported to be more, but the reduction in the price 
 
 30 
 
354 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 of silver probably accounts for the greater part of 
 the shrinkage. 
 
 Our mines are certainly progressing in general. 
 Stamp-mills are numerous. Gold has been dis- 
 covered from the north line of Colorado to the 
 south, and its development is only begun and on 
 the surface, as the country has never except in 
 a few camps been proved to any great depth. 
 Our mines are only in their infancy. After ages 
 are past, it will be said the half has never been 
 told. In 1 86 1 1 first crossed the State of Colorado. 
 I believed even then that the leads were worth 
 millions more than the gulches and placers that 
 were then being worked. 
 
 Our coal-mines have opened more or less ores 
 in the whole western side of Colorado. The veins 
 will average seven feet in thickness, and are abun- 
 dant. The mines near Canon City are proved to 
 be in quantity and quality the best in the State. 
 Boulder County also ranks high. So does Las 
 Animas County ; and a thousand other places on 
 the east side as well as the west side of the Range. 
 Gunnison, and Pitkin Counties, have rich deposits. 
 There is enough to supply all the Plains, with 
 Kansas thrown in. 
 
 Next come our oil interests. Florence, on the 
 Arkansas River, eight miles below Canon City, is 
 the present center. There the crude material is 
 produced and refined to a considerable extent. I 
 have always believed that oil was plenty in Colo- 
 rado. Mr. Cassady, in early times, struck oil near 
 the above place, and it was used among us. I 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 355 
 
 came around on my circuit, and took up a quarter 
 section adjoining his well, and had a cabin built 
 for the sum of fifty dollars, to hold my claim. 
 But before I could prove up, I was sent as a mis- 
 sionary to New Mexico. That ended my oil 
 speculation; but though it is getting late in my 
 day, I may strike oil yet! I have no doubt but 
 many a flow of oil will be struck near to Denver, 
 as well as in many other sections of the State. 
 
 Iron of the best quality is found in many parts, 
 but has been more fully developed in the southern 
 part of the State. From my personal observations 
 in twenty-six years of travel, mostly in the mount- 
 ains, ranging from Wyoming to old Mexico, I am 
 prepared to believe there is no danger of exhausting 
 the supply. The Bessemer iron and steel works at 
 Pueblo a mammoth concern we think, is destined 
 to be one of the great wealth-producers of Colo- 
 rado, as it is located in the very heart of our iron 
 region, and produces the best iron and steel known 
 in our country, east or west. 
 
 Our mountains abound with hot springs, the 
 waters being heated by the chemical action at- 
 tendant upon the decomposition of minerals, and 
 thus having imparted .to* them many curative 
 properties. 
 
 We also believe that natural gas will be found 
 in abundance for all purposes to which it can be 
 advantageously applied. But if it is not found in 
 the depths of the earth, we have the consolation 
 to know that there is no lack of it among our in- 
 habitants on the surface. The first hot spring 
 
356 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 that excited my interest was on Chalk Creek, 
 about six miles west of the Arkansas River, in 
 Lake County. It was so hot that it would almost 
 boil an egg. 
 
 It was here I did the greatest climbing of my 
 life ; and it was for my life, too. After a hard 
 day's travel, in company with Brother Gilland, a 
 local preacher, we undertook to climb a steep 
 mountain, some distance up Chalk Creek. I was 
 in advance less than a hundred feet, when I dis- 
 covered that my position was dangerous. I had 
 carefully worked my way until it was impossible 
 to get back. So I said: ''Brother Gilland, you 
 go back ; I can 't. To fall from here would be 
 certain death. But I see a way that I can climb 
 some further ; and, if it is possible to get over this 
 point of rocks, I can get up and find my way down 
 some other place." If I looked back, my toes 
 would tingle. It was policy to look up and go 
 up. Through the goodness of God, I reached a 
 place where I could stand safely. But we could 
 not hear each other, as there was a gorge, filled 
 with rocks and timbers, and with rushing and 
 foaming water from the melting snow above. My 
 comrade went back and got my horse, and, with 
 his tones of distress, tried to make me hear. But 
 he waited till evening in vain, and then left for 
 his home to get help. He got in just before sun- 
 set, as it was some six miles; but I got in less 
 than an hour after, and saved him from gathering 
 help to go in search of me. He supposed I was 
 dead or lost. 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 357 
 
 Suffice it to say, I came down at what is now 
 called Haywood Springs. As it was not more 
 than three rods till the hot water emptied into 
 Chalk Creek, which was cold as snow could make 
 it, and as I was tired, and wanted a rest after my 
 hard day's walk, with nothing to eat, I concluded 
 to take a bath, where the mingling of the waters 
 would give the right temperature. I went in close 
 to the creek, supposing the creek water had cooled 
 the hot water, but to my surprise the two currents 
 flowed side by side, the division being not more 
 than the thickness of a knife-blade. While the hot 
 water did not quite blister, the cold water did not 
 quite freeze. I washed a little, but soon got out, 
 and if I had been asked which I had had, a hot 
 or a cold bath, it would have been proper to an- 
 swer, both. There was not a human being within 
 five miles of me, and I had all the fun to myself. 
 I suppose this was the first attempt to bathe in 
 those famous springs. 
 
 In a few days I located a quarter section, in- 
 cluding the springs for medicinal purposes, raised a 
 log house, and thought to improve the property ; 
 but, as was the case with my oil venture, my be- 
 ing sent to New Mexico interfered. The land 
 was not surveyed, and there was no way to hold 
 it but by possession. I left it, hoping that no one 
 would jump it; but an old Georgia doctor took it. 
 At considerable cost, I afterwards got him off. At 
 the same New Mexico move, I claimed half the 
 Hayden Ranch, near Twin Lakes, which I gave 
 away. Either would be a fortune now; but 
 
358 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 preaching and money-making do not work well 
 together. 
 
 There are many hot springs in the mountains. 
 The Poncha are valuable. I visited several in San 
 Luis Valley; and the Calienta and the Pagosa 
 Springs are in New Mexico. The latter are won- 
 derful boiling up hot enough to cook anything. 
 The Glenwood Springs, in Garfield County, no 
 doubt will be a great resort, as they have the Mid- 
 land Railroad, as well as the Rio Grande, interested 
 in their development. 
 
 In the mountains quantities of hay and oats are 
 raised in some places, and potatoes, turnips, and 
 other vegetables. 
 
 Take it altogether, the mountains are rich be- 
 yond all that we ever thought of. And why 
 are they not as valuable to our cities as the At- 
 lantic is to Philadelphia, Baltimore, New York, or 
 Boston? Is there any good reason why the cities 
 of the Plains should not become, in another cen- 
 tury, as great as any in the United States? 
 
 The State of Colorado is about equally divided 
 between mountains and plains. The latter were 
 thought our desert, but now good crops, with and 
 without irrigation, are being raised, and the land 
 taken by pre-emption. Soon all will be settled 
 up a section, say three hundred miles long by 
 two hundred wide. 
 
 A word, here, about our towns. While there 
 will be many fine towns in the valleys and mount- 
 ains, I will speak only of the leading places, that 
 seem to vie with each other in growth and pros- 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 359 
 
 perity. I first saw Trinidad in the spring of 1865. 
 It consisted of a few small houses ; and its citizens, 
 excepting two Americans, were Mexicans. It has 
 the possibilities of a city mines adjacent of a su- 
 perior quality, good agricultural country to the 
 east and south, and its situation such as makes it 
 the entrance to New Mexico. All it wants in order 
 to make a great town of itself, are men with push. 
 Pueblo, the second place in population in Colo- 
 rado, has as great advantages naturally as any place 
 in our State. It is connected by rail with the best 
 gold and silver mines, and is nearer to the best 
 coal and oil. On the east is the valley of the Ar- 
 kansas, which can not be surpassed. It ought to 
 have more smelters; then, with its iron-works, it 
 would grow into a city of wonderful wealth 
 and numbers. 
 
 Colorado Springs, also, has good advantages; 
 especially since the Midland brings the mines to 
 it, and the Rock Island opens a direct line to the 
 East. Its site is not surpassed, and is nearer to 
 the finest scenery than any other place in the 
 country the Garden of the Gods, Pike's Peak, 
 and the Mineral Springs at Manitou, only five 
 miles away, and Colorado City, connecting the two 
 in a continuous town. They, too, need smelting 
 works and manufactures ; but have every prospect 
 of becoming one of the liveliest and most beauti- 
 ful places in the State. 
 
 We come now to Denver, the capital. The 
 question has often been asked, why Denver came 
 to the front and took the lead. It had the first 
 
360 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 printing-press. William N. Byers & Co. reached 
 Denver April 21, 1859. The first freighters were 
 tired, stopped, and made a trading-post. About 
 this time, Thomas Pollock and Uncle Dick Hooton 
 built the first frame houses in West Denver, as it 
 is now called. But A. H. Barker, Esq., tells me 
 that he built the first log cabin or house in Den- 
 ver in 1858. Of course there were many tents. 
 There seems to have been no wisdom in the se- 
 lecting of a site for a large city, or it never would 
 have been on both sides of Cherry Creek, as there 
 was land enough on either side ; but there is room 
 enough to make a Chicago as it is. Of the peo- 
 ple who came, more stayed in Denver than in any 
 other place. It was well advertised in the Rocky 
 Mountain News. Everything was said that could 
 be said for Denver first, and after that the mining 
 and agricultural interests were kept before the 
 public. Many grew home-sick when they found 
 that they could not pick up the gold, and left, 
 cursing the whole Pike's Peak country, and par- 
 ticularly the Rocky Mountain News for falsehood. 
 Their children are now returning, time having 
 proven that the half had not been told. We feel 
 it due to the News to say that we have not had so 
 good and reliable a paper, take it every way, as 
 that paper was while Messrs. Byers and Dailey 
 conducted it. At first there were no telegraph 
 lines, but Mr. Dailey would ride his pony and meet 
 the stage some twelve miles out, get the news, 
 and come back ahead of the stage, so that the 
 readers of the paper could have it. The news 
 
MINERAL WEALTH OF COLORADO. 361 
 
 was a week coming, but was just as fresh to the 
 Denverites as though it had been streaked in 
 by lightning. 
 
 One thing I have noticed every traveler has 
 expressed surprise to see so large and beautiful a 
 town. I have thought the long journey across the 
 Plains prepared him to appreciate the sight. 
 When the Union Pacific Railroad was first talked 
 of, it was invited to come this way, but, refusing, 
 left Denver a hundred miles from its line. It was 
 well that Denver had one man of foresight, en- 
 ergy, and financial ability, with a will to build a 
 railroad from Cheyenne to Denver. John Evans, 
 governor of Colorado, undertook the task, and 
 aided by other enterprising citizens, in 1870, con- 
 nected Denver by rail with the cities of the United 
 States. That was Denver's first great day. Arap- 
 ahoe County voted bonds with a liberal hand, 
 and the governor was considered a great bene- 
 factor. Yet there were some who abused him, 
 and called him everything but a gentleman, be- 
 cause he made money in building the road. This 
 being the terminus of the first iron track, gave 
 Denver a boom that set it beyond the reach of 
 competing points. 
 
 But what would Denver be with her many 
 railroads, if it were not for the towering mount- 
 ains close in her front, stored with the richest 
 treasures that the great Creator ever bestowed on 
 any part of our nation? And all that the towns 
 and cities, from Greeley to Trinidad, have to do, 
 
 when they get hard up, is to look to the mountains, 
 
 31 
 
362 SNOW-SHOE ITINERANT. 
 
 for there the treasures are abundant and un- 
 failing. Colorado, from north to south, from east 
 to west, has seen her darkest days, and the Barren 
 Plains are beginning to rejoice and blossom as 
 the rose. 
 

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