Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I, Part 21

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1074

USA > Missouri > Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I > Part 21

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

Like many others of the clerical profession in the early days, William B. Douglass, of Audrain county, taught school. The family preserved the recollec- tion that grown men and women were included among the pupils. The studying was aloud and sometimes the zeal of the students created a volume of sound which could be heard half a mile. The performance of the marriage ceremony was an important duty of the preachers. Rev. Mr. Douglass, in one case, went seven miles to marry a couple, through a heavy rain which swelled the creeks so that he had to swim them. He received for a fee the sum of fifty cents. The trip required two days. Another day was taken to go thirteen miles and have the marriage recorded, and the fee for that took the fifty cents.

Rev. John Reid and Rev. Finis Ewing were two of the pioneer preachers of Cooper county. They had this experience: When Ewing was moving into the county he had ear bells on his six-horse team. Reid, then a young man, was driving a team for another family in the party. He was greatly taken with the jingling of the bells and wanted Mr. Ewing to tell his teamster to divide with him. Mr. Ewing declined to share his bells, whereupon Reid bought some cowbells and hung one on every horse in his team. Ewing was so annoyed at the jangling of the cowbells that he gave Reid some of the ear bells on condition that he would stop using his instruments of discord.

The Dry Land Baptist.

A pioneer in Callaway county was Thomas Kitchen. He attended the old Baptist church at Salem, of which his wife was a member. He never joined the church because, as he explained to the members, he could not tell his experience, never having had any. He went by the description of the "dry land" Baptist for years, until one day he fell from the top of a mill Captain John Baker was building on Loutre creek. Kitchen dropped into the creek, killing a big catfish by the impact but sustaining no injury. After that he argued that he had been baptized and ought not to be called a dry land member of the church. He also enlarged his name to Thomas Jonah Kitchen, because he said that like Jonah of old he had been saved by a fish.

Rev. Felix Broun, a soldier of the War of 1812, was one of the pioneers of Callaway. He made himself a familiar figure by dressing in a buckskin garment of unusual length, reaching almost to his heels. This robe he wore in the pulpit. He was a man of most positive opinions, never admitting that he was in the wrong if he could help it. He thought he could do anything that another man could. This disposition prompted him to try to temper a crosscut saw, a process about which he was ignorant. The saw was spoiled. The owner sued the preacher. The case was fought over in the courts for a long time.

The Rev. Williams was long remembered along the Osage as "a powerful

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preacher." He was commonly known as "Snagboat" Williams, "from his vig- orous manner of attacking snags to the Christian faith along the great stream of life."

The First Baptism at Old Nebo.

"Old Nebo church" in Cooper county was prosperous until the members divided, as was the case in a number of other Missouri churches, on the ques- tion of paying ministers and sending missionaries to the heathen. After some stormy discussions the majority withdrew and built New Nebo church. The first baptism at Old Nebo drew an immense crowd to the river. Immersion was something new in Missouri. Some of the curious climbed trees to get a better view. One man, Jake Simons, chose a small tree which leaned over the water. While Simons was intensely interested in the proceedings, John H. Hutchinson hacked away at the tree. Simons didn't realize that he was grad- . ually bending lower until the tree cracked and went down into the water. The · crowd made such an uproar that the preacher was compelled to stop the ceremony and postpone the baptism of those who had not received it. Simons swam ashore, pulled off his coat and tried to find the man who played such a trick on him.

Bonnet Show Sunday at Big Shoal.

"The bonnet show" at Big Shoal Meeting house in Clay county became an annual event which continued three-quarters of a century. Judge D. C. Allen said that the show became a custom earlier than 1835; that it took place on the second Sunday in May ; and that there was no other .church in Clay county that attracted so many people on that day.

"Merchants left Liberty in midwinter and went to Philadelphia for their fine goods and to Baltimore for their groceries. The purchases began arriving toward the end of March. There was great rivalry among the women folks to select the most becoming bonnets but the display in public was held back until the annual meeting at Big Shoal church in May. The services were not brief. Worshippers took their dinners and made a day of it. For weeks in advance this gathering was talked of and prepared for. Peo- ple came from many miles to see the bonnet show."

What old settlers remembered as the greatest revival in Clay county occurred at Liberty in 1851. It was conducted in the Baptist church but directed by Rev. Nathan Hall, a Presbyterian evangelist of unusual power, whose home was in Boonville. William Jewell college had been established only a year or so earlier. The revival converted many of the students. Baptism by inimersion followed in a natural baptismal pool in Rush creek, which Judge D. C. Allen described as a remarkable work of nature:

"The water of the creek in time of flood, by its impact against the high bank, de- veloped a rotary motion. This had scoured the bottom of the pool to a depth beyond the height of any man. At the upper end, the stream had created a pebbly peninsula, with the water gradually deepening. Art could not have better adapted conditions to baptismal uses. The ministrant and subject walked out on the peninsula and thence into the water. The road ran along north of the pool leaving ample space for spectators between it and the pool. On the south side of the pool was a grassy bank with a back- ground of rose bushes and forest trees."

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Benton at Campmeeting.

Two of the pioneer preachers of Saline county were Rev. Peyton Nowlin, and Rev. Thomas Kinney. The former was a very serious-minded man, while Kinney had a sense of humor which he did not lay aside entirely while in the pulpit. Nowlin rebuked his brother Baptist for making too much fun in his sermons. Kinney retorted: "Well, I'd rather preach to laughing devils than to sleepy ones as you do. You make them sleep and I make them laugh. My con- gregations will pass yours on the way to heaven; I'll bet you a coonskin they 1

When Benton was campaigning against the Jackson resolutions, he dropped in at a campmeeting in Saline county. The ministers were rather overcome by the presence of the greatest Missourian and one after another passed up the ques- tion of who should preach the next sermon. At length one of the oldest in the party said to his associates: "Brethren, we ought to be ashamed: Tom Benton is a greater man than any of us, but God Almighty is greater than Tom Benton. Let Brother Blank, whose turn it is to preach, get right up and preach, and the Lord will strengthen him. From what I can learn, Tom Benton needs preach- ing to about as bad as anybody on this ground, and who knows but that the sermon of today may save his soul."

will."

Immersions in Hog Creek.

Of the pioneer religious life in Adair county, Peyton F. Greenwood told this :

"In January, 1856, Lewis Conner, a Missionary Baptist minister, held a revival meet- ing at the Brashear school house when quite a number were converted. According to the requirements they had to be immersed. It became necessary to cut the ice on Hog creek, near Uncle Billy Brashear's residence. Among the candidates for immersion was Uncle Reuben Long. He was taken into the water and ice and immersed by the min- ister, Lewis Conner. When the minister helped him out of the water, Uncle Reuben never stopped to shake hands and extend the right hand of fellowship, but lit out on a lively trot up the hill to Mr. Brashear's house. It made an impression on my mind at that time to see the ice and water dripping from his garments as he ran up the hill. Another instance in connection with this service was the immersion of Aunt Charlotte Smith. After she was immersed and rose up, she came out shouting and clasping the hands of every one near her and then it flashed up in my mind that she had true religion and that hers was a true conversion.

"In the early fifties there moved into what was known as South prairie Rev. John C. Gibson, a minister in the Missionary Baptist church. He was low in stature but broad and bulky in build. On one occasion he invited my brother and I to attend a church trial in what was known as the Houk school house, wherein he was charged with some offense against the ordinances of the church. He wanted us to sec him clean out the opposition who had brought charges against him. After the moderator was chosen they proceeded with the trial and the evidence they were introducing was pretty hot and heavy against Brother Gibson. He was fighting to keep it out and was making considerable noise and a good many statements, when finally old Brother Denton, who was seated in the south end of the school house, a very tall, well built athletic man, began to rise up, and as I would express it, link by link, said: 'Brother Moderator, if you ever heard cats mew, you will hear them mew now.' With that he made a dive at Brother Gibson, and Brother Gibson made a lunge for the door and down through the prairie grass. This was the way Brother Gibson 'cleaned out the opposition,' and ended the church trial."

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The First Methodist Sacrament.

The first Methodist sacrament in Missouri was administered at Jacob Zum- walt's in the first house built of hewn logs north of the Missouri river. Rev. Jesse Walker conducted the service. Preparation for the event taxed the in- genuity of Mrs. Zumwalt and Mrs. Colonel David Bailey. These good Methodist ladies made the wine from poke berries, sweetening it with maple sugar. For the crumbs they used the crusts of corn bread. Like some other Missourians, Jacob Zumwalt left religious observance largely to his wife. He made whiskey which he sold to the Indians, one of his best customers being Blackhawk. But Zum- walt's whiskey was so low in alcohol percentage that in cold weather it froze and was sold in chunks to the Indians, sales reaching in a single day as much as $100. This traffic did not interfere with the exercise of hospitality toward the trav- eling preachers by Zumwalt. Whenever preachers were in the vicinity they held service at the house of hewn logs. Most of the Zumwalt children were given Biblical names. Andrew Zumwalt was so strong in the Methodist doctrine that he took great offense when three daughters became Baptists, to the delight of their mother. The father commented on the action of the girls by saying he hoped some of his family would find the right church, get to heaven and be contented there without wanting to go somewhere else. The Zumwalts were very numerous. There were five Jacob Zumwalts, distinguished as Big Jake, Little Jake, Calico Jake, St. Charles Jake and Lying Jake.

The Hen-egg Revival.

Rev. Theodoric Boulware, who became one of the most successful of pioneer Baptist preachers, attributed his own conversion to what was known as "the hen-egg revival" in Tennessee. Some one had taken an egg and inscribed on it, "The day of judgment is close at hand." The story was given out that the in- scription was on the egg when found in the nest. A revivalist produced the egg in the pulpit, read the inscription, and, while he did not claim that there was supernatural agency, he showed the egg and preached powerfully on the doctrine of salvation. Among the many converts was Mr. Boulware who came to Mis- souri and settled in Callaway. Mr. Boulware often told the story of "the hen- egg revival." He had his own extraordinary experiences in the pulpit. Once he preached to a Callaway audience from the text, "And Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever." Among his most attentive listeners was a man who seemed much impressed. Years afterwards, Mr. Boulware preached in the same neigh- borhood, and by coincidence from the same text. He said he was astonished to see the same man in the audience. That man, he said, came to him after the sermon and said : "For the Lord's sake! Ain't that old woman dead yet? How long do you think she will live? Poor old critter! What a lot she must have suffered these forty years. I'll warrant she is needy. Really the people ought to send her something to help her along."

A reminiscent writer in the St. Louis Christian Advocate told this story of the "big meeting" at Mt. Nebo in the pioneer days :

"It was a blazing hot day, the kind of weather when dogs are in a fighting mood. The fight began over on the ladies' side. Old Farmer Corbin's spotted cur crawled under the bench and assaulted Sister Hayden's yellow fice by biting him through the

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ear. Every dog took sides. The fight began right in the middle of Brother Davis' ser -- mon, and if the sermon was ever finished I have no recollection of it. All of the dogs went to church in the country. All hands, except the women and children who occupied standing positions on the benches, were soon busy trying to settle the dog fight. Some brother finally got the insulted fice to the front door and kicked him into the yard. But the infuriated little beast bounced through a window beside the pulpit in the rear of the house. Again he was started down the aisle and out at the front with many a kick. But in a flash he would come through the window beside the pulpit. This was repeated until some active brother stationed himself at the window with a hymnbook. Regard- less of his size compared with the big dogs, and of the kicks of the farmers' boots, the fice would return repeatedly to the fight. Well, when the disturbance was finally quelled. there was nothing to do but to adjourn for dinner."

A Pike County Church Meeting.

Millard Fillmore Stipes, the author of "Gleanings in Missouri History," gives on the authority of Judge Fagg this description of a Pike county religious service :

"One of the earliest settlers in Pike county was John Mackey, who erected his cabin near a line of bluffs which marked the western boundary of Calumet creek valley. It was one of the usual pioneer style-unhewn logs and puncheon floor. There was one room below, and a loft above where the older children slept. On the afternoon of a bitterly cold day in 1821, an itinerant preacher rode into the little settlement that had sprung up about the Mackey cabin. Notwithstanding the inclemency of the evening, Aunt Nancy Mackey, devout and hospitable, induced the itinerant to preach at her cabin that night. Couriers went through the snowstorm to the neighbors, and a goodly num- ber trailed through the drifts to the appointed place. The storm had driven a score or more of hogs beneath the cabin for shelter, and when the preacher arose to announce his text, the porkers, in their individual efforts to secure a warm berth near the great fireplace, set up such a squealing that the efforts of the preacher to make himself heard were unavailing. Presently some degree of quiet was obtained and the services began. But a little later, a gust of wind blew open the door which some late comer had not securely fastened, and in strode an old sow with a nonchalance that indicated perfect familiarity with the room. The small boy of the family gave her a welcoming shout, and, jumping astride her back, with one of her ears grasped in each hand, rode the squealing animal around the room, much to the consternation of the female portion of the audience.

"After several circuits of the room, the boy and his steed passed out the door. But not yet were the interruptions over. A flock of geese had, in the meantime, walked in at the open door, and, keeping up a loud hissing and scattering, refused to withdraw. But Aunt Nancy was equal to the occasion. Taking an ear of corn from the jamb, she walked backwards through the open door, shelling the corn and coaxing the fowls in her most persuasive tones. The flock once outside, the door was closed, and the inter- rupted discourse concluded. It is said that these occurrences were accepted as a matter unavoidable. The audience was patient and the equanimity of the preacher undisturbed, while Aunt Nancy folded her arms as complacently as if such annoyances were not out of the usual routine."

Henry Clay Dean, Rebel's Cove, Mo.

Missouri's most eccentric minister was Rev. Henry Clay Dean. He was at one time chaplain of the United States Senate. There was no question about his intellectual ability. As an exhorter he perhaps had no equal in his day. Sympathizing strongly with the South, Mr. Dean left the Methodist ministry and went into politics. After the war he practiced law and became famous as

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a campaign spellbinder. To his home in North Missouri he gave the name of "Rebel's Cove." One characteristic which brought him into disrepute with the church was the abuse of the opposite political party in anathemas which bordered on profanity. Dean had no regard for personal appearance. He was not an entirely welcome guest. A good Methodist woman known throughout Missouri told this :

"Mr. Dean always traveled with a black satchel which never seemed to hold clean linen, but always contained a pint bottle filled with paregoric, as he apologetically ex- plained. Truly, one would have believed it bourbon but for this statement; and very regular, liberal doses did the reverend gentleman take. Upon one occasion he came to my home early in the morning. It was summer, and he wore a white linen suit, but hav- ing walked in the rain some distance he was thoroughly drenched. After breakfast he said: 'Madam, if you don't mind, I will go to your spare room and take a little rest, as I have been up all night.' Without ado he was shown to the guest chamber. Four hours afterward he came downstairs to take his departure, and my eyes rested upon the most ridiculous sight ever presented. It was not, apparently, the great man's custom to disrobe upon retiring, and in his wet linen suit he had crawled between two new com- forts, which, not being warranted to wash, had left big red figures all over his clothes. No circus clown was ever more gaudily costumed. The scene was overpowering, and I fled. The old gentleman, entirely oblivious, walked quietly down the street, his ap- pearance causing merriment for all the boys of the village, until he met a friend, who, gazing with horror upon Mr. Dean's rotund form brilliantly figured with red poppies and pink hollyhocks, exclaimed : 'In heaven's name, Mr. Dean, what is the matter? You look just like an Easter egg.'"

Mr. Dean left the unpublished manuscript of what he called "The Voice of the People in the Federal Government." He described this as "Being an inquiry into the abolition of executive patronage and the election of all the chief officers of the Federal government by the direct vote of the people whom they serve." He quoted on the title page from Neckar, "Liberty will be ruined by providing any kind of substitute for popular election."

A Prayer for Rattlesnakes.

Plain spoken men were the pioneer preachers of Missouri. Down in the. Ozarks is preserved the tradition of the prayer which was offered at the bed- side of a young man who had been bitten by a snake and was in desperate straits. The family to which the preacher was called was unregenerate, and no credit to the community. But when John lay sick from the snake bite, the preacher was sent for, and this, according to the tradition, was the way he prayed :

"We thank Thee, Almighty God, for Thy watchful care over us and for Thy good- ness and tender mercy, and especially we thank Thee for rattlesnakes. Thou hast sent one to bite John Weaver. We pray Thee to send one to bite Jim, one to bite Henry, one to bite Sam, one to bite Bill; and we pray Thee to send the biggest kind of a rat- tlesnake to bite the old man, for nothing but rattlesnakes will ever bring the Weaver family to repentance. There are others in Missouri just as bad as the Weavers. We pray Thee to stir up Missouri, and, if nothing else will bring the people to repentance, we pray Thee to shower down more rattlesnakes. Amen !"

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The Fanatical Pilgrims.

Headed by an aged "prophet," as they called him, the "Fanatical Pil- grims," landed at New Madrid in 1817. They walked in single file, men in front, women and children bringing up the rear. As the long line moved the Pilgrims chanted "Praise God ! Praise God! Fast and Pray !" A peculiar garb of horizontal stripes added to the strangeness of the procession. The Pilgrims had started from somewhere in Canada and had moved slowly in a southwesterly direction until they reached Missouri. Their destination was a "New Jerusalem" which they had been told by their prophet was in the Southwest. When these fanatics reached Missouri they included some people who had sold farmns and other property and put the proceeds in a common fund amounting to several thousand dollars. There were some desertions from the party when it reached Missouri. For a time the Pilgrims lived on what became known as Pilgrim Island. The chief food was corn meal mush and milk which was put in a trough from which the people fed. Fasting was practiced to such an extent that chil- dren suffered and cried for food. At one time the officials of New Madrid took a · boatload of food to the island. The prophet ordered the sheriff and his party away. The food was landed, the prophet was driven back by a show of arms and the children ate as if starved. Gradually the followers deserted the prophet and scattered in the Ozarks. A few of the faithful moved away to Arkansas. When the New Madrid people were feeding the children, the prophet declared the creed of the strange sect.

"Away with your food. We are commanded to fast and pray. Better that their bodies perish than that their souls shall be cast into hell fire."

Boonville's "Last Day."

Millerites had obtained quite a following in Missouri as early as 1844. They predicted the "last day" of the world with confident definiteness. A comet of that year was interpreted as heralding the end of the world. Captain F. M. Posegate told in the St. Joseph News-Press some years ago his recollections, as a boy in Boonville, of the deep impression made upon the people when the last day fixed by the Millerites came :

"One man concluded he would make an effort to forestall the flying chariot in which the elect were to ascend to the presence of the Judge, by using a flying machine, or bird machine as he styled it. He worked faithfully for weeks upon the contrivance and only a few days before the all-absorbing event was expected to materialize hauled it out onto a platform on top of his barn to give it a trial. At the first flop the machine fell to the ground, resulting in a broken neck for the man. To him the end of the world had come, the consolation to his relatives and friends being that he had at least escaped any possible suffering that the flames might inflict. At last the day upon which the prophecy was expected to culminate dawned-clear, soft, beautiful-typical of an old- fashioned Missouri 'Indian summer' day. (We do not seem to have such days now.) 'Old Sol' manifested no desire to hurry matters-the hours dragged slowly-the usual activities of everyday life seemed almost paralyzed, while a nervous uneasiness involv- ing the entire community was apparent. As the sun, seemingly a glowing, flashing ball of fire, sank below the horizon and twilight began to shadow the earth, the suspense became almost unbearable, and it would be idle to say that a feeling of doubt, of un- certainty, of unspeakable awe did not pervade the whole community. The head of the comet soon made its appearance and before its fleecy tail disappeared behind the western

First Congregational Church, Tenth and Locust streets

First Methodist Episcopal Church, South, Eighth Street and Washington Avenue ST. LOUIS CHURCHES IN 1861

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horizon, the moon, nearly at its full, was shedding its soft, silvery, steady light, render- ing all things visible for miles around. Only one hour-sixty short minutes-remained during which the prophecy must materialize, if at all. The main street of the village was thronged with humanity-the believer, the unbeliever, the doubter and the scoffer. The elect, and there were many of them, arrayed in their ascension robes, stood joyously together all in readiness to be taken up. Suddenly, from out in the direction of Gib- son's hill, a spear of light harsher than that emitted by the moon sprang up. As it grew, spread, flared, no mortal pen could have given a fair idea of the silence that prevailed. No mortal artist could have painted the various expressions shown upon the countenances of individuals. Just at the moment when hope, joy, doubt and fear were most strongly depicted a mounted messenger came clattering down Gibson hill. As he passed the Wyan residence, hat in hand, he yelled: 'It is only an old haystack in Gibson's outfield that is burning.' All along the Main street, from the brick house in which Todd and Loomis afterwards taught school to the Powell residence, overlooking the Missouri river, he proclaimed the message. With its close and the exhaustion of the fire from the hay- stack, the suspense ended; seemingly an audible sigh of relief rose from the souls of the overstrained throng of people who had so feverishly awaited the denouement. In the shortest time possible the streets were deserted and the little city was wrapped in a silence so profound as to be almost startling. It is a satisfaction to me now that I cannot recall a single instance where some thoughtless individual twitted a Millerite with the saying, old at that time, 'I told you so.' Neither do I remember to have heard any Millerite express any regret at the nonfulfillment of the prophecy."

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Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I, Part 21

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939 Publication date: 1921 Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company Number of Pages: 1074

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1074