USA > Pennsylvania > Washington County > Claysville > Our church and our village > Part 3
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* " The dignified Mccluskey," not without humor. A mem- ber of the Claysville Church who slept a good deal at church, wanted a transfer to West Alexander, but Dr. Mccluskey remonstrated, and said that he didn't want any of those sleepy fellows from Claysville.
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ยท
REV. JAMES L. LEEPER, D.D.
1195049
Claysville Presbyterian Church
mannered Fleming, the fatherly James McKennan, the flaming Cyrus Dickson, the honest Dr. J. W. Scott; that one whom we delight to honor to-day, Dr. Brown- son, and our worthy brother, Dr. Lester; the positive Pomeroy, the sweet-spirited Alfred Paull.
The whole course of the McCarrell pastorate is sur- charged with precious and pleasant memories. Many who are already in Heaven, and many who are on the road to Heaven, were, at its commencement, drunk- ards, profane swearers, Sabbath breakers, and haters of everything good. The winds of church disturbances might blow more or less fiercely, yet no gale was strong enough to break its anchorage. It contributed a respectable quota to the rank and file of the min- istry. It never preached a sermon that did not con- tain a clear statement that Jesus Christ was man's only hope. It helped the dying to the shore of the dark river, as it illumined that river with the lamp of the Gospel. It entered the sick-room as the angel of consolation. It was that word in season to the weary, which strengthens the bereaved. It left no road un- travelled-no home neglected within the vast circuit of its parish. In its official visitations the spirit of Paul went from house to house, testifying repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. Its catechetical classes showed that a lover of the truth was laboring in doctrine. It was the right arm of the Sunday-school. The glorious record finds its appro- priate setting as poetry presents the pastor of this pastorate as one whose deeds were
" Like a living, breathing Bible-tables where Both covenants at large engraven were ;
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History of the
Gospel and Law on heart had each its column, His head an index to the Sacred Volume ; His very name a title page ;- and next, His life a commentary on the text."
The pastorate which has just closed is in a great measure the history of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. It has left its moulding impress upon the church and the community. The future history of the church is unwritten; but no mere sentiment is ex- pressed when it is declared that of those who, in the hereafter, take up the fallen standard, no one will fill his niche more faithfully-round his life-circle more accurately-exemplify the Right more wholesomely -work for Christ more lovingly, than Alexander McCarrell.
Mr. James L. Leeper, a graduate both of the College and Seminary of Princeton, was called to the vacant pastorate, and was ordained by the Presbytery of Washington, September 13, 1882. In 1886 he re- signed to accept a call to the First Church of Reading, Penn. In 1888 he was invited to the charge of the Second Church of Fort Wayne, Ind., where he is laboring with great success. Of marked pulpit ability and of untiring pastoral activity, Mr. Leeper left an abiding impression upon this region.
The present pastorate, that of the Rev. Frank Fish, a graduate of the Western Theological Seminary, began in May, 1886, and his energetic, evangelical spirit as- sures us that the old church will takeno step backward.
As we sum up the pastorates, we are impressed with the value of biblical preaching, sound doctrine, thor- ough spirituality, and faithful pastoral labor.
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REV. FRANK FISH
Claysville Presbyterian Church
THE ELDERS
Joseph Donahey, Sr., September 20, 1820, living for God in his children and children's children; * Archi- bald Brownlee, September 20, 1820, a name so frequent in the church records of Washington County as to make one of the tribes of God's spiritual Israel; Barnet Bonar, November 26, 1820, a man with the courage of his convictions; Dr. John Hair, November 28, 1824, cut down in the midst of his usefulness; William Mc- Lain, February 5, 1832, to me always venerable and apparently stern, yet really full of the temper and spirit of Christ; George McConaughey, by nature a gentle- man and by grace an intelligent Christian churchman; Robert Woods, 1841, so genial and kind; Hugh Craig, March 17, 1850, a' specimen of meekness, quietness, and reliability; John Hoon, March 17, 1850, a man who, when he found Christ, held on to Him; Nicholas Bearly, March 17, 1850, so keen in intellect; Alexander K. Craig, April 19, 1857, the whole community so mourned him that the heartsore is still fresh; Joseph Donahey, Jr., June 21, 1857, so quick in temper, posi- tive in opinion, unyielding in decision, yet withal the subject of a consecration that laid his open pocket- book at the feet of Jesus; John McLain, June 1, 1863, his walk with God the path of Enoch; Thomas S. Irwin, June 1, 1863, a rigid devotee of order, yet no better
* A person says that once during Mr. Hoge's ministry Uncle Joseph Donahey, who was clerk at the time, fell asleep and awoke in a rage because he was awakened at Mr. Hoge's request.
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History of the
neighbor; John Sawhill, June 27, 1869, respected by everybody; Thomas Henderson, June 27, 1869, my father's and mother's friend, who now lives in God; Dr. Franklin P. Scott, June 27, 1869, a willing spirit; Hugh McClelland, June 27, 1867, one of the youngest old men I ever knew; Thomas Ritezel, December 23, 1883 (I don't remember when I did not know him. He was always so mature in his thought and ways that he must have been fifty years old when he was born. Tommy Ritezel, who would not honor thy memory? A purer, truer spirit never breathed in Claysville); John A. Dickey, December 23, 1883, serving God in his generation; Joseph R. McLain, December 23, 1883, always energetic; Dr. George Inglis, December 23, 1883, a name which recalls the cradle of Presbyterian- ism; Andrew Henderson, December 23, 1883, never a busier worker for the Master; James McKee, who finished the work which God gave him to do.
THE CONGREGATION
We are told that the early audiences which gathered before the wooden tent of 1820, averaged from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty persons. The Presbytery reports the Claysville Church as follows:
1821 .... Mr. Hoge, pastor. 19 members.
1824 ....
51
1829. . . . Vacant 116
1830 .... Mr. Hoge, pastor. 116
1831 . . ..
119
1832 ....
127
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Claysville Presbyterian Church
1833 ... Mr. Hoge, pastor 130 members.
1834 .. "
I33
1837 .. . Mr. Hassinger, pastor IOI
1838 ....
I18
1839. Vacant 114
1842
66
1843 .. . Wm. Wright, stated supply .. 68
1844. ... Vacant
63
1846.
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When Dr. McCarrell commenced his work there were sixty-two members. During his pastorate 353 were added to the church on examination, and 150 on certificate-total, 503; and of these, 103 were baptized. A membership of 320 stands to the credit of the church on the Assembly Minutes of 1895.
It would scarcely be in accordance with the conven- tional use of the term to call the Claysville Church a revival church. Yet I only speak the truth when I say that the only revival I know of in its history is the revival of pure and undefiled religion, which character- ized the whole of the McCarrell ministry. That minis- try was not a succession of spiritual upheavals, but it was the revival which evinces itself in constant, steady, quiet growth in numbers and in spirituality.
During the first half of the forties the ways of Zion literally mourned as the sparse gathering in the meet- ing-house on the hill impressed even a boy with the fact that of this community comparatively few came to the solemn feasts. The silent Sabbaths of this period were many, and as the direct consequence the moral, to say nothing of the spiritual tone of the village and the surrounding country, had reached a
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History of the
very low and discouraging condition. But in 1846 the tide of spiritual life and power commenced to rise, and from the fifties until to-day, the Claysville congrega- tion has been a centre of local influence and has had a good report from without.
I propose now to invite you again to stir up your minds in the way of remembrance with a typical Lord's Day of the period, which includes the later forties and the whole of the fifties. It is a summer Sabbath. Our fathers knew nothing of vacations. It is one of those fine June days which make the Sabbath a bridal of the earth and sky. The farm is at rest. The week-day hum of the village is hushed. The doors and windows of the meeting-house are thrown open. Between nine and ten o'clock the Sunday-school contingent com- mences to gather, and the town and country children exchange their greetings. The individual boys and girls who composed those Sunday morning parlia- ments have faded from my recollection, with one ex- ception, and that was Curry's Bill Wallace. But Mc- Carrell's " Fan" drops her load at the hitching rail, and each one makes his or her way into the church. Dr. McCarrell identified himself so closely with the Sunday-school that to his dying day he was a con- stituent part of it. And why a Sunday-school should be less to any preacher, where providential circum- stances do not intervene, than the morning and even- ing congregation, I cannot conceive. In those days the " Church Hymn Book" furnished our Sunday- school music. We sang over and over "The Rosy Light is Dawning," "Another Six Days' Work is Done," " Dear Saviour, if these Lambs should Stray,"
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Flo toble
(See obituary notice in Appendix)
Claysville Presbyterian Church
" With Humble Heart and Tongue." After the de- votional service the exercises commenced.
I want to lay a wreath to-day on the grave of Thaddeus C. Noble, my first Sunday-school teacher. The most prominent class in the school was the pas- tor's Bible class. As I look from these after years upon that Bible class I do think that it was the Gos- pel net of the early days of the McCarrell ministry. There was no time wasted on Bible puzzles, but the Word of God was presented as able to save the soul. In connection with that class I recall Joe Craig as mighty in the Scriptures. In the course of time an institution grew up which we youngsters styled "the old boys' class." It was a kind of a theological ex- change, where Squire McLain, Squire Craig, Squire Bearly, my father, and others, used to search the Scriptures, and reason out of them. The Interna- tional Lesson System had not yet come into vogue, and there was a sort of go-as-you-please use of the Bible. In my opinion, the best exercise of that day was the repetition of verses of Scripture committed to memory. Of course, the Sunday-school Conven- tion crank would have pointed his ridicule with our Sunday-school. But when the judgment day makes up its record, methinks that we will understand its use- fulness as Heaven's roll-call announces the writing of the Lord that this and that one were born there. One of the great events of my boy-life was the Sunday- school celebration of July 5, 1847. Dr. McCarrell talked about it for weeks. The West Alexander School joined us. Claysville swarmed with people. The pro- cession was almost, if not altogether, the length of the
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4
History of the
street. I recall the form of Dr. Mccluskey. Joe Hen- derson, in behalf of the West Alexander, presented our school a lot of testaments to be used for prizes. Then came the feast, and we children were stuffed with gin- ger-bread and cold water.
But while the Sunday-school is in session, let us stand in the centre of the yard and look to the four points of the compass. I turn to the north, and Dutch Fork sends forth the Meloys, Zeiglers, Hayburns, Moores, and Craigs; Brush Run its Flacks and Georges; Taylorstown its Hodgens, Williamses, Wil- sons. I look to the east, and down Warrell's Hill pour, by carriage, horseback, and afoot, the McLains, Dona- heys, Craigs, Currys, Hendersons, and Warrells. I cast my eye along Warrell's lane, and from the south pour into the pike the Lucases, the Woodses, the Fin- leys, the Alexander girls, John McLain, the Sawhills, and the Stewarts. I look to the southwest, and along come the Hairs, the Griffiths, the Herrons, the Aber- crombies, the Millses, the George McConaugheys, the Porters, the Robinsons, the Johnnie Andersons. I look to the west, and there appear on Porter's Hill the Lairds, the Dennisons, and the Sam Bonars .* I look
* Says a venerable member of this church: "The first carriage I ever saw at Claysville was one that Mr. Donahey owned-a sort of a wagon of a thing. A great curiosity it was. I scarcely remember whether it had any springs or not."
Another person says that when she and her brothers and sisters were children that their father and mother would ride to church on horseback, and that they (the children) would go in their bare feet until a short distance from town, when they would put on their shoes, the usual place for the shoeing being Billy Knox's lane. gj
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Claysville Presbyterian Church
down in the direction of the village, and as the men and women of my week-day acquaintance enter the church- yard, I cannot help but wonder at the transformation Sunday clothes do effect upon the inhabitants of Clays- ville. It was the day of the frock coat, the old-fash- ioned swallow-tail, and satin vest; and when you saw Mr. Cooper in his Sunday suit, Squire Bearly in his swallow-tail, Pap and Anthony Mealy in their broad- cloth, John Hoon in his store clothes, George Mc- Conaughey looking like a doctor of divinity, Major Irwin like a military officer off duty, Thomas Hender- son in dark brown, Asbury Caldwell, and Jim Finley, and Jim Woods, and Chester Abercrombie, and the rest of the young men who sat in front of the choir, all as spick and span as the weaver and tailor and shoe- maker and soap and water and hair oil could make them; and, along with all these, when you saw our mothers in satin and silk and bombazine; the girls, young and old, in every color of the rainbow, and on a warm day clad in white; and the children in the re- action consequent upon the torture of the Saturday night scrub-I feel now, as I did then, that I was proud of the appearance of the Sunday congregation of Claysville. Since those golden days I have seen many brilliant congregations, and have felt the influence of architecture, music, and eloquence in impressing the eye, the ear, and, I might say, the heart, but none of them have wiped out memory's picture of the sturdy, plain, Bible-believing, God-fearing, and God-worship- ping folk that were wont to cluster around Jesus on His day in the meeting-house on the hill.
The summons of the opening hymn or anthem by
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History of the
the choir soon filled the pews. The first psalm or hymn was then sung. It was followed by the long prayer. Then the Scriptures were read. Another hymn was sung. Then came the sermon, the after- prayer, and the last hymn, in their order. The an- nouncements were made either before or after the last hymn.
A chapter of reminiscence, brimful of inspiration, yet not without its sprinkle of humor, might be written on the service of song in the Claysville Presbyterian Church. My first recollections are of a railing in front of the pulpit, surmounted by a Bible-shaped piece of wood, behind which one, if not two, clerks stood to lead the singing. I have a very distinct impression of Messrs. Robert Woods and George McConaughey. I feel to-day the wonder with which, while as a boy, I used to notice the width to which Mr. Woods was wont to open his mouth as the Lord filled it with music. Mr. McConaughey always seemed to start a tune as if he expected a breakdown, but when the people found out what he was after, they came to the rescue. The congregation used Rouse's version of the Psalms of David in my early childhood. I have not forgotten a Sunday that my father brought home a new hymn- book.
The days were when the singing school was the glory of this region. The singing master was one of the institutions. The Todd family, of West Alexander, were famous as instructors in the art of sacred music. Just about the time of Dr. McCarrell's advent a sing- ing school was in progress, under the direction of a Mr. Pease. He instructed both the adults and the young
44
REV. A. A. MEALY
Claysville Presbyterian Church
people by means of the violin. He closed his school with a grand concert. As the result of his work a choir was organized, than which, in my opinion, Clays- ville never had a better. For several years it was a feature of the religious service which attracted the whole country around. I recall Mr. James Finley, the tenor; Mr. James Woods, the boy alto, and Miss Sarah McLain, the soprano. Another valuable in- structor in sacred music was Mr. Coburn, who could not live without his cup of tea. For several years Mr. George Lucas was the faithful leader of the choir, and after his departure to another State Mr. Alexander K. Craig led the service of praise un- til God called him to join the redeemed in the new song of the heavenly choir. According to our fathers and mothers, the music book of the early days was the " Missouri Harmony." In my day it included the " Psalmodist," the "Christian Minstrel," and the " Presbyterian Psalmodist."
" And how my thoughts go backward To Sabbaths gone so long, When voices death and years have hushed Joined with mine clear and strong !
" In ' Dundee,' ' Mear,' and ' Brattle Street,' Or ' Windham's ' solemn strain, Glad ' Coronation's' joyous notes And ' Lenox,' soft refrain."
The thought of that old choir stirs me with the plain- tive flow of " Hebron," the sweet measures of " War- wick," the heavenward lift of " Shirland," the longing of " Balerma," and the heavenly swell of " Frederick."
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History of the
The service of prayer in our village had one char- acteristic that tried the boys of the period, and that was length. The long prayer was generally long.
The sermons of the time consulted length rather than brevity. I grew up on three generally, but often four particulars; three, four, or five remarks under each particular, concluding with a repetition of the sermon by way of application. I think that it is in accordance with the truth to say that the Claysville pulpit through- out its whole history has been given to the scriptural, logical, doctrinal, uncompromising, direct, practical, pastoral preaching of Christ and Him crucified.
The red-letter days of these olden times are the com- munion seasons. The sacrament, Sunday, was an oc- casion which drew the people for miles around. Or- dinarily there was a four days' service, and generally one, and sometimes two or three, strange ministers were present. The reception of the elements by the communicants in their pews was an innovation of com- paratively late introduction in Claysville. To my mind the venerable custom of celebrating the Lord's Supper by means of tables has the advantage over the modern custom in the way of impressive solemnity. I, as a boy, felt that Christ was very near as the com- municants approached and left the table; the opening hymn being " 'Twas on that Dark and Doleful Night."
And those communion addresses - Noah, the preacher of righteousness; Moses, the expounder of the law; Samuel, the faithful minister; Elijah, the prophet of fire; Isaiah, touched with the live coal; spirit-filled Peter; the loving John; the irresistible Stephen; de- voted Paul, once and again at the table of their Lord
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Claysville Presbyterian Church
and ours-made our communion seasons the house of God and the gate of Heaven. And oh, how many of the ministers of God who delivered those addresses, how many of the communicants who heard them, have gone through that gate to drink the new wine with their Master in the kingdom of Heaven!
Right here I must interject a word about the weekly prayer-meetings, which were held from house to house, at the homes, alternately, of the villagers and country people. To have tried to find anything sensational in them would have been to search for hen-teeth. But the same Jesus was in their midst that made the upper room what it was on the Day of Pentecost, and the house of Mary, the mother of Mark, what it was when the prayed-for Peter knocked at the door a delivered man.
Dr. McCarrell also, for many years, alternated the winter season with the pastoral visit and the cate- chetical class. The pastoral visit was a simon-pure dealing of God with the individual soul, and the cate- chetical class an effort to ground the people in the truth.
Now, for a little while, let us transfer ourselves to a Sabbath service of the olden time. On the right of the pulpit sat the family of the pastor, the little boys then, now in the service of the church. Back of that I recall the Meloys and the Mehaffeys. Going toward the door, on the north aisle, in the first wall seat on the north side, are Mr. and Mrs. Hoon, who are still here to testify for the Master they have served so long. Then comes that grand figure, Mrs. Flack, the daugh- ter of Dr. John Anderson. Mr. Mealy is still left to
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History of the
recall that bright-faced wife and mother whose old age was like Heaven's benediction. And our old family pew awakens thoughts unutterable. Oh, how much of the Henderson, and, I believe, all of the Stewart pew, are in yonder city on the hill! And those quaint Alexander girls-Faithy's voice once heard was never forgotten-as it made a person think of the North of Ireland. Then the Bearlys and Brockmans, and next, the Mecrackens; and how can I have forgotten to notice the Ritezels in my way? I turn my face toward the pulpit, and two or three seats before the pulpit are filled with the young men of the community. Then come the Lucas pew and the Craig pew; and I think of John as, with some college companion, he enters the door; of Joe as he never turned an eye from the preacher; of Will as he sleeps in a southern land. Then Mr. Humes's; the McLains, ever present. I walk over to the southwestern corner, and where are Mr. and Mrs. McConaughey and Warren and Wylie and Kate ?- in Heaven. Then Mr. John Kelley's pew. Stately Mrs. Dennison has exchanged her pew for a place in the heavenly temple. Going along the wall pews of the south aisle, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are not there; but I will never forget the white head that rose above the entrance of the next pew-Mr. Warrell. The next was occupied by Mr. Campsey. Not far be- hind was one whom everybody knew to respect-John Laird, than whom the Claysville Church never had a more devoted adherent. I turn my face to the pulpit again, and, passing along, see once more the Finleys, the Woods, and the Donaheys.
And as I recall the families of this church and think
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Claysville Presbyterian Church
of such women as Mrs. William McLain; as the faith- ful Mrs. McCarrell; as the noble Mrs. Flack; as that exhibition of womanly dignity, Mrs. Thomas Miller, formerly Mrs. Truesdell; as that quiet and noble character, Mrs. Hugh Craig; as the motherly Mrs. Robert Woods; as the excellent Mrs. McConaughey (and this period can only properly be finished by speaking of every wife and mother of the Claysville Israel)-I say that if the ancient Horace felt that it was something that he had raised a monument more enduring than brass, I feel that in the history of this church, in the men and women both at home and abroad, in the citizens and soldiers who have been faithful to their country and their God, the wives and mothers of the Claysville Church, because they were as brave as Deborah and as prayerful as Hannah, and as true to their children and grandchildren as Eunice and Lois, and as true to Christ as the women at the cross and sepulchre, are able to point to this church, this community, to those who live in it, to those who have gone from it, and say, as Sir Christopher Wren said of St. Paul's in London: " If you wish to see our monument, look around you."
Thus I have endeavored to restore the palimpsest of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. De Quincey tells us that "a palimpsest is a membrane or roll cleansed of its manuscript by reiterated successions." He instances a parchment that originally contained a Grecian tragedy. In the course of time the monks wanted to use it, and made it the transcript of one of their legends. Then the age of chivalry came on, and somebody used it for a knightly romance.
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History of the
Now, the chemistry by which the monks thought that they had erased the Grecian tragedy-by which the authors of the knightly romance thought that they had erased the monkish legend, was imperfect. The more elaborate chemistry of modern times has restored the original writing. The incidents which link this church to every individual directly or indirectly con- nected with it are like the original writing on that parchment. That writing may be written over with the toils and triumphs of earth, so written over that we may not see this church's story of the individual. But just as the romance from that Greek parchment, which some young girl may have adored, has perished; just as that knightly legend which may have deluded some boy has gone-so all that this whole world is to the men and women, the boys and girls of this church, will fade away to show the story of what this church has done for these men and women and boys and girls in relation to eternity. I accommodate to my purpose the following:
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