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THE

Galax Gatherers

THE GOSPEL AMONG THE
HIGHLANDERS

BY

EDWARD O. GUERRANT

Belvoir, Wilniore
Jessamine County, Kentucky

Edited by His Daug^hter, Grace

PUBLISHED BY ONWARD PRESS
RICHMOND. VIRGINIA

COPYRIGHT 1910
BY EDWARD O. GUERRANT

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LOVINGLY DEDICATED
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WHOSE I AM. AND
WHOM I SERVE "

A FOREWORD

This is not a Novel, which its name might suggest, but
the truth, which is sometimes "stranger than fiction."

These are real people and places, and not figments of
the imagination.

The partiality of friends is largely responsible for the
publication of these random notes, written while travel-
ling and preaching through the mountains.

They were not written for pleasure or profit, but for
the Glory of God and the salvation of His long-neglected
children in the Highlands. Both objects are worthy of a
better advocate.

Dr. Dabney said of these Highlanders, "They are the
most distinctly American stock on the continent."

And Dr. Talmage recently said, "The inhabitants of
the mountains are the last of earth's children who shall
yield their hearts to the conquering march of Christ."
"Win the Highlanders for Christ and you win the world
for Christ."

No nobler object could engage our hand and heart.
That you may share in this great work and its glorious
reward is our humble prayer.

Our thanks are (kie to Drs. Lill\-, McCorkle, Patton
and Bryan, and Professor Gordon and Mrs. Mary Hoge

VI A FOREWORD

VVardlaw, Mrs. Judd and Mrs. Wells for their contribu-
tions.

But especially to my companion and amanuensis, my
daughter, whose faithful help made the work possible, I
owe more than I can repay.

Commending these simple annals of the Highlanders
to God and His children who love Him and their fellow-
men, I am sincerely,

Your fellow servant.

Edward O. Guerrant.

CONTENTS

Page
Frontispiece.

Introduction VII

Tlie Galax Gatlierers 1

Glencairn 6

In the Mountains of Old Virginia 9

In the North Carolina Alleghanies 15

On the Estatoa 19

The Scotch-Irish 24

Dan Mcintosh 27

Dedication on Haddix Fork 30

A Highland Wedding 33

From the Big Black Mountain 36

The Ivy Patch 42

From Hazard 46

From the Troublesome 49

A Trip Up the Big Sandy 54

One Woman 57

A Little Visit to Turkey Creek 59

A Visit to Raven Roost 62

On the Shoulder Blade 65

Proctor Bill 68

Chenowee (Dr. J. D. Patton) 73

On the Upper Quicksand 76

Elkatawa 83

Panther Ridge 86

The House that God Built 91

The Church on the Grapevine 94

Preaching to the Poor 98

Coming to Christ Barefooted 102

V^isit to Cataloochee 104

In the Great Smoky Mountains 109

At Ebenezer 113

Bear Creek 117

VIII CONTENTS

Page

Mormons in the Mountains 119

Satan and the Mormons 129

Missions on the Canoe 132

Dedication of the Church on the Canoe 136

On the Canoe 140

The Regions Beyond 144

Puncheon Camp 147

Twenty Years After 150

Bloody Breatliitt 152

Highland College 156

A Red Letter Day 157

To the Children of the City 161

The Orphans Home (Dr. D. Clay Lilly) 162

Feed My Lambs 166

Two Highland Funerals (Mrs. Mary O'Rear Everett) 171

A Tour Through the Cumberlands 175

Glen Athol (Mrs. Mary Hoge Wardlaw) 179

A Unique Contest 184

A Word from Prof. Gordon 186

Pentecost at Puncheon Camp (Rev. J A. Bryan) 189

A Girl's Trip in the Far Cumberlands 191

On the Grapevine (Grace Guerrant) 195

To Big Creek (Grace Guerrant) 199

Jett's Creek 202

The Lucky Thirteen 205

From the Lost Creek 208

A Teacher's Letter 212

INTRODUCTION

REV. DR. W. W. MOORE,

Union Theological Seminary^ Richmond^ Va.

Some years ago, wishing a practical article of a certain
type for one of the issues of the Union Seminary
Magazine, I requested Dr. Guerrant to furnish it. He
wrote me in reply that it had not been his specific mis-
sion to write the Gospel but to preach it, and seemed to
imply that he had no special skill with the pen. For
love of his alma mater, however, he granted my request
and sent the article desired. The readers of that article
and of the various articles descriptive of his evangelistic
tours in the mountains, which have appeared from time
to time in our church papers, do not need to be told
that he was quite too modest in his estimate of his gifts
in this way, and that his style as a writer is no less indi-
vidual and striking and effective than his style as a
speaker, which is saying a great deal, as all know who
have heard him preach. The same underestimate of his
gifts with the pen would have prevented him from ever
publishing in more permanent form what he calls "these
little field notes concerning the mountain work," and
it is only to the filial admiration of his devoted ama-
nuensis and coworker that we are indebted for the
appearance of this volume. The author gave his con-
sent only when assured by her and by others who knew
their value that the publication of these wayside notes
would help the cause for which they were written and

X INTRODUCTION

thus glorify God in promoting the education and salva-
tion of those long neglected Highlanders whom he so
earnestly desires to help to a better life on earth and a
better home beyond it.

There are some men who have never given a minute's
study to the technique of authorship, but who know
how to write, as a bird knows how to fly. Robert Louis
Stevenson, himself a carefully-trained author, writing
to Dr. John Brown of the fame he had won and the
friends he had made by the apparently effortless produc-
tion of that English classic, Rob and His Friends, says :

"Ye scarce deserved it, I'm afraid —
You that had never learned the trade,
But just some idle mornin' strayed
Into the schule.
An' picked the fiddle up and played
Like Neil himsel'.

Your e'e was gleg, your fingers dink ;

Ye didnae fash yersel' to think.
But wove, as fast as puss can link,
Your denty wab : —
Ye stapped your pen into the ink.
An' there was Rab."

So with Dr. Guerrant. He stapped his pen into the
ink, and there was the American Highlander, — with his
little cabin and his large family, his hard poverty and
his deep ignorance, his spiritual destitution and his
eager response to the preaching of the pure gospel.
These quick, short, unstudied sketches bring before us
the region and the people with a vividness that any
professional writer who ponders over his phrases and

INTRODUCTION XI

carefully polishes his periods might envy. No waste of
words — no beating about the bush — no leisurely ap-
proach— swift and straight he goes to the heart of his
subject. The opening of Tom Sawyer is not more
abrupt or eflfective than that of the sketch entitled Bear
Creek. Yet there is a poetic vein in him which ever
and anon crops to the surface as he revels in the beauty
of God's world, as where he speaks of "the great moun-
tain with its autumnal dress of crimson and purple and
gold, and its rich, dark mantle of balsams around its
giant shoulders." And there is a quaint humor that
twinkles in the most unexpected places, as where he
says of a remote and forlorn settlement, "We felt lone-
some here. But the Lord had promised to go with us
'to the end of the world,' and as we had reached that
place, we claimed that promise."

As Sir Walter Scott by The Lady of the Lake and
Rob Roy made the Highlands of Scotland known to the
world and turned an endless stream of tourists through
those romantic regions, so Dr. Guerrant, by these
sketches, has helped to give to the world a true knowl-
edge of this vastly greater and wilder Appalachian
region with its four millions of untutored and un-
Christianized people, and has done more than any liv-
ing man to turn a saving stream of evangelists and
teachers into its remote and needy recesses. He has
been in turn Soldier, Doctor and Evangelist, — these
three, — but the greatest of these is Evangelist. His
heart has responded to the sore need of this vast region,
as large as the German Empire, and practically without
churches, Sabbath schools, or qualified teachers. He
has recognized clearly that this Home Mission work is

XII INTRODUCTION

the paramount obligation resting upon our people. He
has himself for twenty-five years labored there as his
other duties have allowed him opportunity. Seeing that
he and all the colaborers he could secure from his own
church were quite inadequate to the stupendous task of
giving the blessings of education and religion to this
great territory, he called upon all other Christian people
to help. And the real significance of this volume to the
Christian conscience is that it is throughout a reitera-
tion of that call. For, notwithstanding all that has been
done, the field is yet almost untouched ; there are many
thousands yet unreached ; and as Dr. Guerrant says, "the
question is not whether they can be saved without the
Gospel but whether we can be saved if we do not give it
to them."

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The Galax Gatherers

Probably Solomon, who said there was "nothing new
under the sun," was acquainted with the Galax Gather-
ers, but I must confess they were new to me, until I
went to the North Carolina Alleghanies. A word about
this interesting people may not be unwelcome.

On my way to their lofty mountains, I stopped to
see Rev. R. F. King, our faithful Evangelist in the hill
country of East Tennessee. Leaving the railroad at
Piny Flats, in Sullivan County, I was driven several
miles over the green hills to White's Store, where I
expected to preach in a large school-house at Rocky
Spring. Brother King was awaiting my coming, and
clever Mr. Burkey gave me a nice home and a Ten-
nessee welcome ; I could wish no better.

This region lies in the "forks" of the Holston and
Watauga Rivers, and though nothing but rocks and
hills, it is picturesque. The people, though mostly in
humble circumstances, are thrifty and industrious. Mr.
Burkey told me he handles some ten thousand chickens
a year, eggs without number, and a considerable quan-
tity of walnut-kernels. This industry was also new
to me.

The congregations soon crowded the spacious school-
house, and though quite unwell, I managed to preach
morning and night for ten days, omitting one day, and
sitting down to preach one day, when too weak to stand.
The weather was very hot, but the patient people came

^ Galax Gatherers, and

in crowds. One day Mr. King took me down deeper
into the Fork, to Deer Lick, where I preached to a
school-house crowded with a deeply interested people.
After the sermon nearly every one came up to confess
the Savior. Another day we went even beyond the
school-house — to Smokey — and preached in the open
woods, beneath the great oaks, to a large crowd, seated
on the rocks, on boards and on the ground. Here again
God touched many hearts, and they confessed the
Savior with tearful joy. It was good to be there, in
such good company, with God and His poor children.
These are some of Brother King's many preaching
points. On Sabbath morning, I preached the last time
at Rocky Spring, to a large congregation. At the close,
twenty-five young girls and women came forward and
publicly confessed the Savior. It was a strange and
beautiful sight, the like of which I had never seen.
There was not a single man or boy among the number.

While the Gospel is freely ofifered to all, the majority
of the saved will be girls and women, as far as T have
observed.

I was glad to learn that a benevolent man (Col. Gregg)
had left $6,000.00 to build a nice brick church here for
these poor, but worthy, people. I was sorry to leave
them, but remembered there was One who will never
leave. That Sunday night I went to Brother King's
home and preached at the old church, "New Bethel,"
founded one hundred and twenty years ago. It is a
large church, and was crowded to the doors, with a fine
congregation. I expected it, after one hundred and
twenty years of training in the Confession, the Cate-
chisms, and sanctified with the memory of the Doaks,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 3

the Kings, the Hodges, the Bachmans, and other mighty
men of God, who have here proclaimed the Gospel. It
was an honor to preach in that pulpit.

But I must go on to the Galax Gatherers, before you
get impatient. Leaving Brother King, doing the work
of two men, in a big Missionary field, I crossed the
rapid Watauga, at DeVault's Ford, Sunday night, and
rested there half a day. That evening found me in
Johnson City, and Tuesday morning on the new rail-
road, through Unicoi County, and up the Nolachucky
River, into North Carolina, On the train I met Brother
Cochrane and his family, from Bristol, going to rest
awhile at Unaka Springs. I only wished I had time
to rest awhile myself. But Cecil John Rhodes said
"So much to do, so little done," and I went on. We
will rest in Heaven.

East Tennessee, the Switzerland of America, is beau-
tiful : with its emerald hills and quiet vales, and lofty
mountains and limpid streams. If one had nothing to
do but enjoy himself, I don't know a better place, in
summer.

Some thirty miles brought us to the Gorge, where the
Nolachucky cuts its way for twelve miles through the
great Unaka Mountain, of solid rock, some five hundred
feet high. It surpasses the gorges of the New River
and the French Broad, and is longer than the Canon
of the Arkansas through the Rocky Mountains. It is
awfully grand. The building of the railroad here is a
triumph of skill and hard work. Emerging from the
Gorge, we are in Mitchell County, North Carolina, on
the beautiful Estatoa River (here called the 'Toe). This
is the same riv^r as the Nolachucky, but whcu it passes

4 Galax Gatherers, and

into Tennessee it changes its name. At Green Moun-
tain, the present terminus of the road, clever Mr. Bow-
ditch met me with a saddle horse and, we rode and
walked some seven or eight miles up a rough road along
the rapid river to the school-house, where our Mission-
ary, Miss Elizabeth McPherson, is teaching some sixty
bright mountain boys and girls. Here Brother Harris,
the Bishop of the Estatoa, met me and helped me faith-
fully for a week. Though quite unwell, I preached
twice a day, for several days, to a large school-house
crowded. This is called ''Loafer's Glory," but I am
glad the loafers have departed, and the glory of moun-
tain and valley still remain. It is indeed a grand coun-
try. Even the deep valleys are 2,400 feet above the
outside world, and the old Roan Mountain looks down
from its throne, 6,334 feet up in the sky. More than
twenty years ago I preached on that mountain top, the
first sermon and perhaps the last. How time flies, and
the mountains remain, hoary with the passing centuries,
and still unchanged and godlike.

One day I had the pleasure of a ride over Gouge's
Hill to Bakerville, the county seat. It is a clean, quiet
little village of nice homes around the court-house, and
Gudger's hotel, an ideal summer resort, when the rail-
road comes.

On Sunday morning. Brother Hiuddleston, of the
Methodist Church, filled his appointment at the school-
house, and I had the pleasure of hearing an earnest ser-
mon. I preached at night, and again Monday morning
and night, when sixteen men and women came forward
and confessed Christ and gave their names to Brother
Harris to organize a church. Some others had joined

Sketches of the American Highlanders, 5

before, for all of which we thanked God. Mr. Bowditch
g-ave a beautiful site for the church, and the generous
people subscribed over $300.00 to build the first church
there in that cozy mountain hamlet. Those who know
Brother Harris will expect it to be dedicated in a few
months.

Being too weak to preach longer, I reluctantly bade
good-bye to clever John Stewart, my good host, and his
kind family and friends, and turned my face towards
my home beyond the Cumberlands. But I will not go,
before I add a postscript and tell you who the Galax
Gatherers are.

This is their native country, and the galax is a wild
foliage plant which grows on the bleak sides and sum-
mits of the big mountains of North Carolina. It has a
rich green color in the summer, which deepens into a
splendid bronze as the winter approaches. These leaves
(about the size of a colt's foot) are used in the homes
of the rich people in the cities for decoration. During
the fall and winter, the poor people find employment
and small compensation in gathering the leaves and sell-
ing them, at from fifteen to twenty-five cents a thousand.
It is a hard way to make a living, especially when snow
and ice cover the mountains, and when the leaves are
most valuable. Probably none who enjoy their gor-
geous foliage in a stately mansion ever know what labor
and sacrifice and suffering these leaves cost the poor
Highlanders.

But there are compensations in all things. They live
in God's royal presence on the great mountains, where
red blood, and ruddy cheeks, and sinewy limbs are

6 Galax Gatheeees, and

made, and pure thoughts and noble impulses and high
aspirations are born.

The Lord of glory Himself was born, and lived and
died, among the Galax Gatherers of the holy mountains
beyond the seas. It is a privilege and pleasure to preach
to them the same sweet old story He first preached on
the mountains of Galilee, and last preached on the sacred
mountain at Jerusalem.

This is the mission of the Soul Winner Society, whose
seventy missionaries are carrying this blessed evangel to
thousands of humble homes in the Alleghanies and Cum-
berlands.

GLENCAIRN.

This is a little mountain hamlet in the most romantic
Cumberlands. I guess some Scotchman named it,
though most anybody could have put the Glen and
Cairn together in a name, as God had done in nature.
It is a wild and beautiful cleft among the old sandstone
mountains, just wide enough for a little, clear stream,
and some small, humble cabins between the beetling
rocks.

The mountains were covered with their gaudiest dress
of crimson and gold, as if for a feast instead of a funeral.
The white shroud of winter will soon replace this gorge-
ous gown of the autumn ; and this fact took me there to
see two noble women, who are working in our mission.
We knew they had lived through the summer in an open
ranch, which would not turn the snows or storms of
winter. They did not complain, but counted it all joy

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 7

to endure hardships for Him, who endured death on the
cross for them.

There is no church in the country; and when I
preached there the little school-house of the Soul Win-
ners' Mission could not hold the people, so we adjourned
to a saw-mill shed, half a mile away, and it was filled
with eager listeners, who stood a storm which beat in
upon them from the unprotected sides of the big shed.
They were the same "common people" who heard the
Savior gladly on the mountains of Galilee.

In front of the Httle cabin of our missionaries stood a
lofty cliff, over five hundred feet high, where many birds
of prey built their safe eyries. Behind the cabin, a tall
mountain shut out the view. The forest enclosed it on
either side, so that the only open view was up toward
God and heaven. It was well that they could see that
way, for all their hope and help must come from Him.
Lizzette, the younger, a graduate of Converse College
(that noble school for girls in South Carolina), walked
for miles between the clififs and over the mountains, to
conduct a mission-school, alone, and visit the sick, and
carry the "glad tidings" to many humble homes along
the narrow valleys. One month she walked over a hun-
dred miles — there was no road to ride on, and no horse
to ride. His "jewels" are gathered in such glens.

Her aunt, a most accomplished woman, who spent
years in the easier Spanish missions, taugiit her school
nearby. The little school-house was just big enough to
hold two dozen children — as bright and pretty as any I
ever saw. Led by Birdo, they romped up and down the
glen as free as the air, and as gentle as the fawns of
their native hills. No such teacher as Mrs. T. had

8 Galax Gatherers^ and

ever been in that wild glen, and all Glencairn loved and
honored her and Miss Lizzette for their self-denying
labors of love.

The approaching winter sent Miss Lizzette to her far-
off Southern home in Texas, but her elder sister came
and took her place, as companion and helper to her
aunt. I knew that they could not endure a Kentucky
winter in the open cabin, so I went to see what could
be done for their comfort. I was glad to find that an
open-handed and big-hearted mountaineer, who had two
cabins, had turned one of them over to our missionaries,
free of rent. Of course it was a poor home for such
women who had been reared in luxury. It had no
ceiling, no fire-place, no carpet, no mattress, no paper-
ing— only naked walls of unhewn boards and a bed-
stead. Miss Lizzette had made. But they did not com-
plain, but set about fixing it up to keep from freezing.
Miss Annie had turned a corner into a wardrobe with
some rough planks and bought some muslin to cover
the bare walls. Some noble women at home promised
to send them a carpet for their room and something to
cover the spare-room, where the little school will "run"
all winter. I am sure the Lord, who clothes the lilies
and feeds the ravens, will not forget His faithful children
at Glencairn, or anywhere else.

I have told you this simple story, to show you and
others, that God still has a people who love Him and
His poor children, and who are glad to endure hard-
ness for Him who endured the cross for them. The
martyr-spirit still lives in hearts, even in timid women.
We have many such noble women in these great moun-
tains, teaching the way of life to hundreds of the poor,

Miss KivERs' School in Patrick County, Va.
Threk Years' Growth

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 9

but grateful, children of the hills. One I know, who
has never seen a church since she went into the mission
field, now almost three years ago. Their reward is in
heaven. Have you a part in this noble work?

"There comes a time in the future near,

When this life has passed away.
When these needy ones will stand with me

In the light of the Judgment Day.
When the angel reads from the book of life.

My deeds for that great review.
If the Lord should speak and accuse me there,

I wonder what I should do ?

The Son of Man, with his angels fair,

Will sit on the great white throne ;
And out of the millions gathered there.

He will know and claim His own.
If he says to me those words I've read

In that Book so old and true,
'Inasmuch as ye did it not to these,'

I wonder what I should do?"

Settle that great question now, so He may say to you :
"Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you from the foundation of the world ; for
I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty
and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger and ye took me
in ; I was naked and ye clothed me."

A WEEK IN THE MOUNTAINS OF OLD

VIRGINIA.

By the kindness of some of my ministerial brethren,
I was permitted to preach a week recently in the mining-

10 Galax Gatherers^ and

camp on Tom's Creek, in Wise County, Virginia. — Some
account of that interesting field may not be without its
lessons to those unacquainted with their neighbors.

I left my home on Tuesday, October 3d, and pass-
ing through the Cumberland Mountains at Middlesboro,
arrived on the second day, at Norton, Virginia, above
Big Stone Gap. Here I was met by Rev. F. E. Rog-
ers, the evangelist in charge of this field.

If you don't know how a pelican of the wilderness
feels, go as an evangelist to the mountains, one hun-
dred miles beyond all who know and love you. I need

not say we were glad to see each other. "Sheep among
wolves" need no introduction. But I was not quite so
much a stranger as I thought, when a bright young fel-
low walked up and shook hands with me and said his
name was Reese Bowen, son of Col. Tom Bowen and
Augusta Stuart, and grandson of Gen. Reese Bowen,
of Tazewell County, Virginia. Some twenty years ago,
when he was a lad, I preached his little sister's funeral
at his grandfather's old home, at Maiden Spring, Vir-
ginia. I was surprised and gratified that he remem-
bered me. I guess heaven will be full of such glad sur-
prises. After dinner, Brother Rogers and I set out for
Tom's Creek, twelve miles farther down the Norfolk and
Western Railroad, among the red mountains of old Vir-
ginia.

If you were never in a coal-mining camp, you will
have to go there, for a description of the dust and smoke
from two hundred and fifty coke-ovens, and of the noises
from engines and cars, and dinkeys and larreys, and tip-
ples, and men and horses, and mules, and three thousand
people of all colors (white is not a color) and sizes and

Sketches or the American- Highlanders. 11

tongues. The little and big houses were scattered for
two miles in the narrow valley and along the mountain
sides along Tom's Creek, which is the name for a river
of black coal-dust. We were fortunate enough to get
our room at one house, and our meals at another; one
of Dr. Barr's flock, who has wandered away into these
mountains.

There is not a church here (for three thousand people),
and no place to preach, except under a chestnut tree, or
in a little school-house. We took the school-house, only
because we couldn't warm the other place. It was half
a mile of railroad tracks, and cars, and locomotives, up
to the school-house, but many of the people came farth-
er, and we did not complain, or get killed. Some thirty
came out the first night, but they gradually filled up the
little school-house, though many had never learned to
go to church, for want of opportunity. The religious
destitution was pitiful. In twenty-two families, I vis-
ited one day, I found only about a dozen persons who
had ever belonged to any church. They received me
kindly in their humble homes, for most of them were
Virginians. Indeed, of the fifteen hundred men there at
work, only some thirty are foreigners (Hungarians).

Brother Rogers worked faithfully under the greatest
disadvantages. The men were at work from 7 A. M. to
6 P. M. in the mines and ovens, and digging and haul-
ing, and building two hundred and fifty new coke-ovens.
Everything was in a rush, except the church. Money,
and not souls, was the object of all, but a few, a rem-
nant of Israel who had not bowed the knee to Baal. A
little prayer-meeting at 9:30 A. M., of half a dozen good
women, held in one of the cottages, helped us preach at

12 Galax Gatherers, and

night. The congregations and interest increased from
day to day, in spite of the dark nights, and the tired
bodies of the laborers, and the httle uncomfortable
school-house, without a breath of ventilation. Some of
the wandering sheep were gathered back into the fold,
the seed sown in many a heart that responded its accept-
ance, and all the results left with God, whose word never
returns to Him void. The harvest will come bye and
bye. Pray for God's faithful laborer in this great and
destitute field ; he needs much assistance and encourage-
ment, and I am sorry I could not remain with him a
month instead of a week. A month's work here would
doubtless gather a rich harvest of immortal souls ; but a
place must be provided for the preaching, and earnest,
prayerful effort made to reach these multitudes of
neglected people.

While here I took the opportunity to revisit Glades-
ville, the county seat of Wise County, Virginia, where I
joined the Confederate Army, February, 1862, thirty-
seven years ago. I had ridden from my home, in cen-
tral Kentucky, with a lot of other boys, across the one
hundred miles of hostile mountains to the Southern
Army. We found the old general in Gladesville, a little,
mountain hamlet, 2,300 feet up on the Cumberland pla-
teau, and there we enlisted for "three years, or during
the war," to fight for old Virginia, the land of my fath-
ers. It is eleven miles from Tom's Creek, but a good
horse soon climbed the Guest's Mountain, two miles up
to the plateau, and nine miles along it, to the little moun-
tain town. The scenery beggars description. Nature
had on her gayest autumnal dress of crimson and gold,
and the gorgeous panorama, painted by the great Artist,

Sketches of the American Highlanders, 13

stretched away over blazing mountains and valleys, be-
yond our utmost vision. Only a few houses and fields
of red heather broke the solemn and awful monotony
of the wilderness.

The last time I passed this way, thirty-five years ago,
I rode with John Morgan and two thousand brave men,
on our last Kentucky campaign. How changed the
scene ! Now, only God and the old mountains remain.

A lone boy was lazily grinding sorghum in a nioun-
tain dell, and reminded me that I first tasted it, in this
very country, during the war. It was sorghum or no
sweetening then. By lo A. M., I reached the old war-
town of Gladesville I first saw thirty-seven years ago.
Only two of the houses, and not a living soul, remained
of its war-time inhabitants. What a lesson on this tran-
sitory life ! Only two houses and the old hill remained
of the Gladesville I knew. What memories they awak-
ened; what of good and ill, of joy and sorrow, of victory
and defeat, are crowded into those thirty-seven years !
But God was in them all, and through them all His lov-
ing hand has led me!

I need not say I was lonesome in Gladesville, though
the little town was wonderfully improved. A splendid
court-house has taken the place of the old barn of one,
we used as a hospital ; and many handsome homes have
taken the place of the little cabins. But the men and
places I knew were gone, the army wagons and mules,
the cavalry, and infantry, and artillery, the clanging
sabres and spurs, the burnished guns and bayonets, the
sick and wounded soldiers, were all gone. Tom Hay-
den's bugle was silent; the drum had sounded the last
tattoo ; the camp-fires were all out, and the boys had

14 Galax Gatherers, and

struck their tents, and most of them had pitched them
beyond the river of death. I was not happy in Glades-
ville ; it was a cemetery to me, and I did not stay long.
But I found the dismantled old hotel, and the room
where the general made me a soldier, and begged a
piece of the wood to take home, as a memento of days
"sacred to the memory" of many brave men. In the
room above, where noble Captain Hawes kept the money
to buy hard-tack and cotton clothes for the "boys," I
found these words on the wall, in pencil :

"Look and see where you are going, O soul of mine !
You are travelling to eternity, and when thou art there,
will it be in heaven or in hell ! Be careful, O my soul,
for while thou art in the flesh is the time to serve the
Lord. Watch, therefore, for in an hour when we think
not the Son of man cometh ; so beware, O my soul."

Where that traveller is now, only God can tell. It
was probably written by a soldier, and I hope he is in
heaven. But I weary you. After dinner, at the hotel
of Mr. Richmond (grandson of General Richmond, of
Lee County, Virginia), with whose father and uncle I
served in the war, I took my departure, — the rear-guard
of the grand army which served under Marshall, and
Williams, and Morgan, and Breckenridge, and Giltner,
and Clay, in this part of the Confederacy.

As I passed over the hill, I took a last look at Old
Pound Gap, in the Cumberland Mountains, through
which we passed so often, and the quiet village in the
valley, with its thousand memories of the dead years,
and the heroic men who people those years in my heart;
I knew better then what Byron meant when he wrote
5vords like these :

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 15

"I feel like one who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted ;
Its flowers all dead, its lights all out,
And all but me departed."

Hoping to meet those guests again, where they never
part, in the land where the light never goes out, and
the flowers never die, I am yours faithfully.

IN THE NORTH CAROLINA ALLEGHANIES.

I guess you do not often get letters from this altitude,
— this "land of the sky," — where rivers are born. This
may give my letter a chance to see out into the world
below.

For some years we have had a number of faithful mis-
sionaries (of the Inland Mission) at work in these moun-
tains,— notably, Rev. J. A. Harris, and a corps of lady
teachers, as fine women as ever ministered to the Lord.
I had intended making them a visit in the summer, but
sickness prevented, so I had to postpone it until now.

A long ride from home brought me to Asheville, the
capital of Cloudland, where I met Mr. John K. Coit,
colporteur of Synod.

On a frosty morning we took passage in his little
wagon for the high mountains of Yancey County. Ten
miles down the beautiful French Broad River (the Indian
Tockie-Oskie, or "Racing Waters"), brought us to Bun-
combe Hall, at Alexanders's, where Mrs. Gen. Robert
Vance dispenses a generous hospitality and helps in a
little Sundav school.

16 Galax Gatheeeks, and

After a good dinner for man and beast, we left the
river for the Big Ivy, v^hich flows from the bosom of the
Big Craggy Mountain.

Our way lay across a wilderness of hills and valleys,
big and little, the plateau of the Alleghany Mountains.
Evening brought us to Democrat, on the Big Ivy (a post-
ofifice named when Qeveland was President), where
most of the voters are un-Democratic. We found a
good place to sleep, where the waters roar over the big
mill-dam:

Brother Mac Davis, the Bishop of this Diocese, who
lives five miles up the Big Ivy, caught us next morning
before we got started (at 7 o'clock). He is the man for
this region. His new church was to be dedicated on
Sunday, and it was a sorrow to me that my engagements
prevented me from being with him. Such men need
help and deserve it, — deserve it more than they need it.
He has prayed and fought whiskey out of his parish.

To-day our journey led us through the clouds, from
Big Ivy up the Little Ivy, a beautiful mountain stream,
which we followed to its source in the mountain. We
passed out of Buncombe County and journeyed through
Madison County.

I found the roads much better than in the Cumber-
lands, as well as the houses and farms. More land is
cleared, and it is better cultivated. It is an older coun-
try, and nearer the sources of education and refinement.
The Cumberlanders are far away from the land of their
fathers, and on the ''wrong side" of the higher civiliza-
tion (which is west of them).

At Democrat I was surprised to find a canning fac-
tory, where they were putting up thousands of cans of

SOUL-WIN NEES' MISSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS

1 Elkatawa

9 Canyon Falls 17 (ilen Canon

2 Canoe 10 Athol

3 Shoulder Blade 11 Bear Creek

4 Canoe 12 [.ost Creek

5 Puncheon Camp 13 Rousseau
G Turner's Creek 1-1 Laniliric

7 Crockettsville 15 War Creek

8 Buekhorn 16 Jett's Creek

18 Smoky

19 Lick Creek

20 liOafcrs' Glory

21 J':statoa

22 Paint Gap

23 Mt. Victory

24 Ebenezer

49 Oil Spring

25 l?at Harbor
2(; Tampa

27 Cataloochie

28 Whit(!sbu]-g

29 Jackson

30 Hazard

31 Pea Ridge

32 Happy Top

50

33 Poor Valley

34 Tom's Creek

35 Paint Creek
33 Haddix Fork

37 Ivy Patch

38 Chenowee

39 Grape Vine

40 Panther Ridge
Cliavies

41 l^ear Cret

42 Clay City

43 Big Ivy

44 Robbiusvi

45 Haysville

46 Paint Roc

47 Mieaville

48 Copper H

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 17

fresh peaches, apples and tomatoes. (The Cumberlands
generally lack the peaches, tomatoes and cans.)

Evening, and Mr. Coit's North Carolina deliberate
pony brought us to the mountain at the Paint Gap.
Crossing this on foot, we reached the head-waters of the
Nolichucky River, which is about the head of the Mis-
sissippi.

We are now in Yancey County. I thought I had seen
some apples before, but I was mistaken. I never saw
the like ; apples were everywhere — big, little, red, brown,
yellow and black apples. The trees were covered and
the ground, too. Every day processions of wagons
passed up the creek and over the mountains, going to
Asheville, and even as far as South Carolina, with apples.
I would call Yancey County the apple-orchard of the
South. They are too common to taste good ; yet they
said it was only half a crop. It is hard for an out-
sider to believe, but he knows something of God's bounty
and man's imagination.

Like all mountain people, they are generous to a fault.
I had apples till I didn't want any more.

In many respects the people resemble the Cumber-
landers. They are about the same size and shape, speak
the same language, though not so "easily provoked,"
and do not fight on as small a provocation. They are
pure Anglo-Saxons and Scotch-Irish, with no foreign
adulteration. Tliey are better farmers and give their
women less work in the field; even in the "fodder sea-
son" I saw few at work pulling fodder, though this im-
portant industry calls for dispatch.

At clever William Penland's we found our first moun-
tain mission teacher, Miss Nellie Rogers, and soon Rev.

18 Galax Gatherees, aitd

J. A. Harris, of Micaville, one of the pioneer Soul Win-
ners here, joined us. It was Saturday evening-, but as
we had no time to lose, I preached that night in the
little school-house on Indian Creek, and slept well after
my thirty miles' ride. I would recommend this treat-
ment for insomnia. Sunday dawned clear and crisp
(generally crisp up here around Mt. Mitchell), and a
good crowd of people walked over mountains and val-
leys to the new, unfinished church on Horton's Hill;
very few rode. The clever people who had built the
church were unable to put doors, or windows, or floor,
or ceiling, or stove in it, but planks served for seats, and
zeal for a stove, so we got along very well until the
north wind blew, when we had to plank up the windows,
and wish for summer.

God, who is no respector of houses, came to visit His
humble children of the hills, and one night fifteen of
them accepted Christ, amid rejoicing in Yancey and in
Heaven. During the week twenty united with the
church, fifteen of whom received baptism and twelve
more gave their names to Brother Harris for member-
ship in the church, now ready to be organized here.

They are plain, good people, unusually free from many
of the vices of the day, and intelligent and desirous of
education.

Miss Nellie Rogers, a most accomplished lady and
teacher, has given some two years of her best efforts
to help them to a higher education and a nobler life. She
is only one of a score of such consecrated women em-
ployed in this work by the Society of Soul Winners.

Mr. Harris is, par excellence, the man for the work;
a rare combination of grit and grace and gumption. It

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 19

takes all three to succeed in this work. He is most
ably seconded by Mr. Coit, and I could find no accusa-
tion against them, except that they persist in trying to
"keep house" themselves, and make a "poor out." There
is no excuse for such failure in this State and country of
lovely women.

My time being limited, I had to leave Indian Creek
on Saturday, to preach at Micaville that night, and
thence up the South Toe (Estatoa) River, visiting the
fields of labor of Misses Pope, Allison, Grier and
Vickery.

An opportunity (and an invitation) may induce me to
tell you something of that part of the field, and the work
of those noble women in the wilds of Yancey County,
under the shadow of Mt. Mitchell.

ON THE ESTATOA.

Acting on the presumption that it is "better late than
never" (sometimes), I will finish my former letter about
my trip through the North Carolina Alleghanies.

Having borrowed clever Henry Holcombe's moun-
tain pony, I set out from Paint Gap, for Brother Harris'
field on the South Toe River. My journey led me down
the pretty valley of Indian Creek, across Cane River, to
Burnsville, tlie capital of Yancey County. Being alone,
I had the pleasure of enjoying the royal company of the
great Black Momitains and their mighty Builder.

Burnsville is a typical place to live a "quiet and peace-
able" life, only it is a trifle too quiet for a man who had
ever been down in the world below. (The town is 2,800

20 Galax Gatherers, and

feet above most of the other people.) But one could
not wish for finer water, purer air, or a better dinner
than I found up there at an old soldier's tavern. It was
the biggest thing in town or county, except the Black
Mountain.

I was surprised to find two nice colleges there ; one
built by the Baptist brethren, and one by the Presby-
terians, through the generous help of Mrs. McCormick,
of Chicago, who has done so much for the needy South-
land.

After dinner, and a look at Mr. Ray's large museum
of curios, I left the quiet mountain-girt village, and
started down Crabtree Creek for Micaville. The farther
I went, the country grew poorer, the mountains taller,
and the crab-apples more plentiful. I never saw as
many ; they were going to waste by bushels. Evidently
these good people don't know how to make French
champagne in North Carolina. They could supply the
market.

The day was lovely, and the road passable (for one
horse), though the creek persisted in keeping in it, and
often compelled the traveller to ford it lengthwise.

Evening, and the gray pony brought me to Micaville,
which I almost fell over before I knew it was there, sit-
ting in a little nest between the Mica mills. I believe
two stores and two houses and the little log church com-
prise its "improvements."

Here I found Mr. Harris, the Bishop of the Estatoa,
and his two assistants, Misses Rosa Lee Pope and Mat-
tie E. Moore. Being a business man, he had appointed
preaching for that Saturday night. The quaint little
church on the hill was crowded with people, and the

Sketches of the Americax Highlanders. M

good singing was led by our lady missionaries. I
preached my best to people who walked miles to church
on Saturday night ; was sorry I could not do better.

Air. Clontz furnished me a nice place to rest in his
hospitable home, with the great Black Mountain look-
ing down from 6,000 feet in the sky, into his front door.
The poor people in cities and plains might well envy
i\Ir. Clontz.

Early Sunday morning we started up the Estatoa to
the missions taught by Miss Allison and Miss Vickery.
We had to flank old Celo, the Black Mountain Giant,
and travel as wild a wilderness road as I ever saw in
Cumberland or Rocky Mountains. It was too lonesome
for even a wild-bird or a squirrel, and hardly a ray of
sunshine found its way to the ground to light up the
sombre wilderness. I remember only one "clearing" in
many miles.

The great mountain had on its autumnal dress of
crimson and purple and gold, with its rich, dark mantle
of balsams around its giant shoulders. God only could
make such a wardrobe, and only a god among moun-
tains could wear it.

About II A. M. we reached the little cabin on the
"South Toe," where we were to preach. Misses Marga-
ret Allison and Mary Vickery, with native helpers, were
teaching an interesting Sabbath school, of all ages.

The house was too small for the congregation, so we
moved out doors, and preached in the "First church," on
the beautiful Estatoa. I need not say it was bigger
than St. P'aul's, and grander than St. Peter's. God
built it, and garnished it with regal splendor of forest
and field, mountain and river.

22 Galax Gatheeerb, and

It was too cool to sit in the shade, so I preached in
the sun, and the good people kept warm by its October
rays, tempered by Mt. Mitchell, which looked down
from his eyrie in the clouds.

The scene and day were memorable, and beyond the
summits of these great mountains we will look back and
thank God for it. I trust some precious souls were won
to God that day. Many professed their faith, publicly.

I found the country wild, and the people poor enough
to be kind and generous. They are very much the same
people as the Cumberlanders — Scotch-Irish and Anglo-
Saxon — with probably a few more Huguenots. They
are hospitable beyond their means, and unusually intel-
ligent. They are much less inclined to fight and drink
than their children beyond the mountains.

The country being poor, God put treasures for them
in the deep mica mines, which are found all along the
mountains. Some of them have been worked for years
and are very deep (three hundred feet).

After preaching at 3 P. M. I found a hospitable home
at "Uncle Jason" Ballou's "a lodge in a vast wilderness,"
at the foot of the great mountains. It was worth the
journey to see that home and the mountain and forest.
God was everywhere and man nowhere (outside the little
family of four). It was easier to be good there, and they
were good people. But even there they had their tribu-
lations. A wildcat killed "Aunt Emily's" chickens in
the yard, by daylight. "Uncle Jason's" hogs were wild,
and had to be hunted with dogs on the big mountain ;
and the bears caught some of them. But with it all, they
seemed contented and happy, having food and raiment.

The most beautiful stream I ever saw, — the clearest

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 23

and purest water, — is the wild and rapid Estatoa, flow-
ing out of the bosom of Mount Mitchell, the monarch of
the Black Mountains.

Though in some places it was several feet deep, it was
perfectly clear to the bottom, and the beautiful mountain
trout could find no hiding place. Along this lovely
river, and beneath these great mountains, the Soul Win-
ners have been laboring and gathering fruit unto ever-
lasting life. The people help them in their work, and
love them for their self-denial and service, in helping
them to a better life and a happier home in heaven.

But I will give you a rest, though I have many things
to say yet.

I preached twice a day for three days ; and at the last
service ten persons, almost all grown, confessed their
Savior, and others gave their hands, to help organize a
church here.

They have the frame up, and much of the lumber on
the ground, to build a church, and we promised our
Society would help finish it. Mr. Harris is a church-
builder, and he is ably assisted by noble mission teach-
ers, and the poor, but earnest, people.

I was sorry I could not visit others of our workers :
Miss Margaret Grier, at New Dale ; Miss Blanche Vick-
ery, at Red Hill, and Messrs. De Vane and Jones in their
fields.

My time being limited, I started on my fifty miles'
ride back to Asheville. I was glad of the privilege of
making this visit, and helping these faithful, self-denying
missionaries, and knowing those good people who need
help so much, and are so grateful for it. I feel sure, if
God's more fortunate people could see what I saw, they

24 Galax Gatherers, and

would more gladly and generously help in this work.
God's blessings have most signally followed it, and will
abide on those who have so liberally helped it with their
prayers and alms. May their numbers and blessings
increase.

Part of three days and nights on horseback, and be-
hind Brother Coit's patient pony, brought us to Ashe-
ville, and the faster "iron horse" brought us to our
home.

NORTH CAROLINA SCOTCH-IRISH.

Your kind of¥er to let me put something in your
paper is taken seriously, and here is something, — a ser-
mon or a song. It may be that some tar-heel has torn
himself loose from his turpentine-still and wandered as
far as your paper travels. If so, he will be interested
in this letter from home. On my way back to Ken-
tucky, from Florida, I ventured through South Caro-
lina, to Fayetteville, N. C, to spend a short while with
Brother McKelway, the fortunate husband of hand-
some Ruth Smith, who needs no introduction to any
student at HIampden-Sidney.

It is much in his favor to say he comes as near being
worthy of such a woman as men generally are of their
wives.

Brother McKelway is the live pastor of a Clan of
Mac's from the purple heather of the Scotch Highlands.
They landed here about 1770, and have spread abroad
to the South and West (not much to the North) and
laid the foundation of many noble characters in Church
and State,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 35

The land is about poor enough to produce good sec-
ond-growth hickory, and first-class men and women.
Tlieir wealth is not sufficient to occupy their time or
enlist their affections, so they turn to education and
religion.

Here Flora McDonald once lived, who defied kings
and armies for her country and her religion. Here, too,
the old Covenanters seceded from Great Britain and
declared their Independence before the Colonial Con-
gress, which met at Philadelphia.

These are a great people, if you get them started
right. You can neither stop them, or turn them, right
or wrong.

Fortunately, John Knox started them right, and they
are still on that road.

It was a privilege and pleasure to preach to such
people. I had been used to it at home, so that it came
somewhat natural to let them have their own way.

Brother McKelway, with a large faith and a diligent
hand, had prepared the armory for a great congrega-
tion and a rich blessing.

I must confess, I was a little dubious when I thought
of a week-day prayer-meeting at ii A. M. in a room
with a thousand vacant seats, and a town of not more
than six thousand people. But Brother McKelway's
faith in his people, and in his God, was not misplaced.

The big house soon got too small. There were as
many as five hundred or more at the morning service
and more than double that many at night.

The business houses all closed during the hours of
service, and the saloon-keepers all followed the noble ex-
ample. This was done without any pressure or abuse,

26 Galax Gatherers^ and

They came to hear the Gospel, that once attracted "pub-
licans and sinners."

That Gospel has never lost its power, as was plainly
to be seen at Fayetteville. It is still "the power of
God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the
Jew first and also to the Greek."

Both helped in the meeting, and I believe that both
were blessed. About one hundred persons publicly con-
fessed the Christ during my stay of some ten days.
Twenty-five of these made the noble confession the last
night, when every available space in the big armory was
crowded. I was sorry to be compelled to leave, to meet
other engagements, and return to my own people.

The meeting will be continued by Brother McKelway
and Dr. Nash, of the Methodist Church, who, with his
own and other brethren, rendered most faithful and val-
uable assistance.

I must make special mention of the splendid chorus
of fifty voices (with piano and organ), which sang the
Gospel so sweetly and efifectively.

It is worthy of remark that this grand service of song
was led by a son of Abraham, and they were always in
their places, morning and night.

I venture to commend such fidelity to the tuneful sons
and daughters of Asaph. Such choruses are a powerful
auxiliary to the preaching. Indeed, it is preaching of
the best sort. It atones for much bad preaching from
the pulpit. I have tried it.

I well remember my mother's songs long after the
sermons are forgotten. But I must not impose on your
generosity nor "wear my welcome out," on my first
visit.

Sketches op the American Highlanders. 2'^

Thanking you for the privilege of a talk with your
congregation, and hoping it may still increase, I am,
Your brother and servant.

DAN. McINTOSH.

David once said he was "a wonder to many." Paul
said, "by grace, I am what I am."

Those who know Dan. Mcintosh have found that the
wonders of redemption are still seen, and the miracles
of grace have not yet ceased.

Dan., of Kentucky, was born thirty-eight years ago,
on the Troublesome River, in the darkest Cumberlands.
There was not a railroad within a hundred miles, nor
a church in nearly as many, nor a qualified preacher or
teacher within several days' journey of his home on the
Troublesome. Dan. was a grown man before he ever
saw either. His father died when he was only two
years old, and Dan. was left to an indulgent old grand-
father, who left the boy to himself, generally. He went
to a common mountain school for about two years, and
learned to spell some easy words and read a little. School
being irksome to his Highland blood, he finished it in
two years, and entered the free life with the "boys" on
the Troublesome. He was an apt student, and soon
graduated in drinking, swearing, gambling, and shoot-
ing, illicit-distilling, and fighting. His home in "Bloody
Breathitt" was a congenial one. In twenty years over a
hundred men had died violent deaths in that county.

When twenty-three years old, Dan. concluded to
marry, and found a loving and courageous rrvountain

28 Galax Gatherers, and

girl in Prudence Hogston, who took Dan. for "better
or for worse," principally the latter. She proved a de-
voted and faithful wife, and stuck to Dan. "through
thick and thin," nursed his wounds and raised a family
of bright children.

Seeking new fields, Dan. moved over the mountain,
from the Troublesome to the turbulent waters of the
Quicksand River. Here he continued his reckless career
until 1894. But God had "provided some better things"
for Dan., doubtless, in answer to prayer. He never for-
gets. In that year of grace, Rev. Dr. E. O. Guerrant
pitched a Gospel tent on the Quicksand, at a place known
as Rousseau, a store, post-ofBce and two other houses.

There was not one church along the fifty miles of the
Quicksand, but there were many hundreds of sinners
for whom Christ died, and Dan. Mcintosh was among
them.

To this cotton tent, the untutored Highlanders came
in crowds, on foot, over mountains and across streams,
and sat from 9 A. M. until 4 P. M. to hear the Gospel.
The "old, old story" was new to them. They sat on
rough logs, boards and rocks. The singing was led by
Miss Ellen Converse, of Louisville, and little Anne
Guerrant, who came with her father, to play a little
organ, and help in the service.

More than fifty persons confessed Christ, and there
was joy on the Quicksand. One day "Uncle Nimrod"
Mcintosh, Dan's grandfather, an old Highlander, with
his aged wife, came to beg Dr. Guerrant to let them
join the church and be baptized. The Doctor told them
he must preach ten days before he opened the doors
of the church. Uncle Nim insisted, because he lived

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 29

across the river, and they might not have another chance
to join, for if it rained they could not get across. The
Doctor consented to make an exception of Uncle Nim
and Aunt Nancy. They came, and like Zaccheus "re-
ceived Jesus joyfully" and took Him back to their little
mountain home.

Dan. saw all this, and heard it. A life of reckless sin
was behind him. but God and heaven and salvation were
before him. "And he arose and came to his Father."
I need not say that our loving Father met, embraced, for-
gave and saved him. Fie turned away from all his evil
ways and served God as zealously as he had ever served
Satan. His hand and heart were converted, a warm
heart and a strong hand, and both and all he had were
dedicated to His service, who loved and died for him.

Always a "front man," he now became a front man
in the Lord's work. He taught in the Sabbath school,
conducted the prayer-meeting, travelled over his native
mountains, and bore the "glad tidings" to his own per-
ishing countrymen. And "all men did marvel," and
many believed on Jesus for the saying of Dan. They
knew he was a true and brave man, and all had respect
for his honesty and sincerity, and he has won many souls
to Christ by his "walk and conversation." He was
elected an elder in the church, and for some years has
been employed by the Inland Mission (the Society of
Soul Winners) as an evangelist to his own people.

The last time I remember seeing Dan. was at another
meeting, conducted by Dr. Guerrant, far up on the
Quicksand, in a churchless country, in a big tent. The
morning service began about 9 o'clock. Not long
after that hour I saw Dan. and his devoted wife coming

30 Galax Gatherers^ and

up the hill to the meeting. They had walked about
twelve long mountain miles to church, across the almost
inaccessable Caney Mountain.

This is the kind of religion Dan. got under the big
tent on the Quicksand. He is still in service, trying to
win souls to his blessed Master, who rescued him from
sin and death.

THE DEDICATION ON HADDIX FORK.

It was a fearfully rainy, disagreeable day last week,
when I started one hundred miles into the Cumberland
Mountains to the dedication of the little church of Had-
dix Fork. Noon Saturday found me at Elkatawa, where
I unexpectedly met Miss Emma Withers, the accom-
plished mission teacher at Canoe, on the Middle Fork.
A rough road-wagon, drawn by two mules, pulled us
several miles over, or rather through, a desperate road
up Cane Creek to Haddix Fork. A large box of Bibles
and Testaments, and clothing for children, and other
needy ones, made the wagon heavier and harder to pull
through deep mud-holes, worn by hauling ties and logs
to the railroad. Evening brought us in sight of the
little white chapel of Mrs. Andrews, in the valley of
Haddix Fork, just wide enough for the creek and the
chapel. It had been built by a noble woman in Chicago,
whom none of us ever saw. The poor Highlanders,
with infinite patience and perseverance, had cut down
big trees and dragged them through mud and water to
the little mountain saw-mill. They had split the boards
on the mountain and carried them down on their shoul-

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Sketches of the Ameeioan Highlanders. 31

ders, to cover the little church. By dint of hard work
it was done at last, and Mrs. Andrews, the faithful teach-
er, was happy and thankful, even with the headache.
Two men were at work on a little cottage by the
church, where she will live and teach the Highland lads
and lassies the Gospel of Jesus. An open-hearted old
mountaineer gave me a warm welcome and a little room
to sleep in (he had but two). Mrs. Andrews was living
in a room by the church, just wide enough to hold a little
stove and a cot, without even room for the box or bed.
If one wants to see how people lived in the "good old
times," let him go to Haddix Fork. Those good people
are our contemporaries of the sixteenth century. Their
open-hearted, and free-handed, simple manner is charm-
ing to one accustomed to the vanities and vexations of
much fashionable society, full of hypocrisy and selfish-
ness. Though there was no appointment for preaching
that night, the little bell on the church, filled it by dark,
with an earnest people, who listened with gladness to the
old story of Jesus.

Every one walked but the babies; and they are al-
ways present in the mountains. Old "Uncle Stephen"
Miller, who had lived there most of his life, said that
was the first church bell he had ever heard, and it sum-
moned the humble dwellers in these mountains to the
first church ever built on Haddix Fork. It was of
course a very unpretentious building (as it cost less than
$300.00), but it was the only one they ever had, and a
"thing of beauty" among the little cabins on Haddix
Fork.

Sunday morning rose in all its glory over these poor
mountains, and God smiled away the clouds, which had

32 Galax Gatherers, and

covered them for weeks, like a pall. By eight o'clock
in the morning the Highlanders commenced coming,
and by nine o'clock the house was crowded inside and
out. Many of them had walked miles through mud and
water, and across mountains. "Proctor Bill" and Lewis
Hensley, the faithful native helpers, were there by 8
A. M., and at 9:15 I began the services of dedication,
which, with its singing and preaching, continued until
noon; and not a soul left the church or went to sleep
It was no trouble to preach there, for they were hungry
for the Gospel ; and it is little trouble to feed a hungry
man. Old Grandmother Miller said she "could have
listened till dark, and it was the best day of her life,"
and she is seventy-two.

On invitation, scores of them came up to confess
Christ, in the simplicity of the faith that saves. It was
not so hard to persuade them that God has a better
country for them. It is a continual struggle for bread
here. The steep mountain sides soon wash to the rock,
and it is a battle with ground-squirrels and ground-
hogs to save their corn, from the time it is planted to
the day it is gathered. Evening found me back at Elka-
tawa, several miles down Cane Creek. On the way, I
turned up the Belcher's Fork to see Mrs. "Proctor Bill"
Little, who had for five months been at death's door.
I was glad to find her able to sit out on the porch of
their little cabin, and see the sunshine on the hills, once
more. She was very proud of their home and farm, the?
best they ever had, and it cost $100.00, most of it given
by generous hands she never knew.

Brother Evans, the earnest Welsh missionary at Elka-
tawa, had gone to New York to see his dying mother.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 33

But the bell on Kessler Chapel filled the house at dark
with a congregation, all of whom walked, and most all
of whom were young men and women. It was an un-
usual scene. After preaching, I spent the night alone
in the little manse nearby, and wished for the morning.
At Oakdale, 6 A. M., Monday, Proctor Bill met me
with a horse (five miles and two mountains from his
home), and accompanied me to Puncheon Camp, the
beautiful mountain stream which has neither church nor
school-house, but scores of children. The Puncheon
Campers promised everything I wanted, but money, to
build them a church and college, the logs and land, and
labor and children.

They had cut the trees on the mountain and sawed
10,000 feet of lumber as a pledge of their sincerity. We
accepted it, and by God's help, and yours, will have them
a church and school before Santa Claus comes to glad-
den your home. He has never been to theirs.

A HIGHLAND WEDDING.

Once when preaching on the Raccoon Fork of Goose
Creek, where there never was a church, my host. Uncle.
Zachariah Smith, told me of two remarkable Highland
lassies whom he termed the "boss gals" on the creek.
Besides being good Christians, they were the best work-
ers in the country. They could fell more trees, split
more rails, hoe more corn, and raise more pumpkins
than any women he knew. I concluded to hunt up
these fine women, and get them to come to the little
school-house where we were holding a meeting. Their

34 Galax Gatherers, and

log-cabin was so remote and secluded, I got lost in the
wilderness trying to find it, and only succeeded by
climbing a mountain and surveying the deep valleys
below. Their home was a poor, little log-cabin, a big
loom filling almost all the puncheon-shed in front of the
only room. Their aged father and two boys made up
the family. Over the home a mountain hung almost
perpendicularly, but it was cleared and cultivated iw,
corn to the top. On inquiry, I learned that these two
girls had borne their part, with the elder brother, in
clearing off the forest of great oaks, and splitting the
rails, and fencing and cultivating it with hoes. It was
that, or no corn.

I noticed that the elder brother seemed to be dressed
up, having on a new pair of shoes and pants, on a week-
day. I made no inquiry, as it was not my business.
It is safer in this country to attend strictly to one's own
business. After awhile, I saw a young man riding a
mule over the top of a mountain, bearing aloft a flag.
Knowing the martial spirit of the Highlanders, I in-
quired if that was a declaration of war. Dave (the elder
brother) said there was a wedding on Possum Creek,
and the man was the brother of the bride coming after
the groom. I then understood why Dave was dressed
up, and inquired if he was the groom. He "admitted
the soft impeachment," as the newspapers say, and ex-
plained that when a Highland lass was to be married,
she sent her big brother after the groom to avoid any
delay or disappointment. Dave appeared resigned, and
told me the name of the bride was Polly Cynthy Ann,
and they would be married as soon as Uncle Zebedee,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 35

the preacher, could cross the river and get there, some-
time that evening.

Soon the big brother, fully armed, came prepared to
bring the groom — dead or alive. Riding up to the
rail-fence in front of the cabin, he inquired of Dave, if
he VJ2LS ready. He answered "yes," and donning his
coat, mounted his mule and rode away. He forgot to
insist on my going, as I had no horse to ride, otherwise
I would have gone, as everybody is welcome in the High-
lands.

My good host. Uncle Zachariah, went, and returned
to tell me that Polly Ann was the "boss gal" on Pos-
sum Creek, saying, "Old Bill, her father, gave her a
big wedding dinner, of pork and beans and sweet pota-
toes, and pumpkin pies and sweet-cakes enough for
everybody."

"Soon after the wedding dinner, Polly Ann got her
hoe and said, "Dave, Pop's craps is in the weeds, and
this is no time to be idle; come ahead. Dave went
ahead, and when I left Possum Creek, Dave and Polly
was knocking weeds high as their heads" ; and Uncle
Zachariah chuckled his entire satisfaction with such a
"boss gal." A young friend, who was present, told me
that when the old parson arrived, he found two couples
to be married instead of one. The grooms got the old
man in a fence-corner and argued for a reduction of th(;
wedding fee. The venerable parson claimed the usual
fee, which was one dollar, but the boys argued that as it
was a wholesale business, he must come down. After
much argument, the fee was finally settled at seventy-
five cents apiece. I inquired of some of the wedding
guests what presents the bride received. Th^ey wen?

36 Galax Gatherers^ and

astonished at my question, and replied that they had
never heard of such a thing. I told them of our custom
down in the "settlement," and the appropriateness of
such a custom, and tried to set them an example. There
were two other evangelists with me, and we searched
our saddle-bags and found a spare Bible, a few white
neckties, a paper of pins, a set of horn cuff-buttons and
a few handkerchiefs. Armed with these wedding pres-
ents, I found the bride mending Dave's old pantaloons,
and overwhelmed her with embarrassment when I laid
these gifts in her lap, with the compliments of the mis-
sionaries and our prayers for long and happy and useful
lives for her and Dave.

FROM THE BIG BLACK MOUNTAIN.

I left my home on Monday morning and came by rail
to Cumberland Gap, where I spent the night, Tuesday
morning I took the 5 A. M. train for the "Double Tun-
nel," at Gilly, near Big Stone Gap, Virginia, and seventy
miles above Cumberland Gap.

Here at 9 A. M. I took a horse for Whitesburg,
Letcher County, Kentucky. My travelling companion
and guide was "Billy" Vermilion, on a little mule.

Our route lay up Callahan Fork of Powell River, some
ten miles between the mountains, to the big coke-ovens
and coal-mines at Pioneer, a new settlement at the foot
of Big Black Mountain, the highest range of the Cum-
berlands, which here divides Virginia from Kentucky.

On GUP way up Callahan, Billy showt'd me where a

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big rock had mashed three men and they had to "rake
them up" when they got the rock off, by blasting it. I
thought of that day when men will "call upon the rocks
and mountains to fall upon them." We found the Big
Black Mountain well named. It was both big and
black.

The forests at the foot were green with spring foliage,
but on top the mountain was dark and naked as winter,
though the soil is a rich, black loam, out of which grow
giants of the forest — immense sugar trees, oak, walnut,
poplar, chestnut, etc.

We rested our exhausted horses on top of the big
mountain and lay down on a carpet of beautiful blue
grass, under the biggest sugar trees I ever saw. It looked
strange to see such a growth on top of such a moun-
tain, thousands of feet high.

But

"Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand dressed in living green :
So to the Jews old Canaan stood.
While Jordan rolled between."

I am not sure that Jordan was any harder road to
travel than up the Big Black. It is probably the same
road.

Here lives old Dan. Richmond, a former slave of
General Jonathan Richmond, near Big Stone Gap. He
owns a big farm on top of this big mountain (said to
be the best in the county), and here has raised blue
grass, Indian corn and a decent family, in spite of the
frost and the bears.

Everywhere beautiful wild fiowers redeemed the deso-

38 Galax Gatherers^ and

lation of the wilderness, recalling that beautiful verse in
Gray's Elegy,

"Full many a gem of purest rays serene,

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

And I could not help thinking how many immortal
flowers were left uncared for and unsaved in these wild
waste mountains. I saw them everywhere.

I met a bare-headed, bare-footed girl with a beautiful
face and form, carrying a big bucket of water to an
humble cabin home. These great mountains are filled
with there immortelles, who must live somewhere, when
their hoary hills have passed away.

To save them, God gave His Son, and the Church
should give her sons and her treasures.

The trail led us down the Black Mountain, as nearly
perpendicular as a man could walk or a mule could
slide. At the foot, we struck the headwaters of the
Poor Fork of Cumberland River. (These people have a
genius for giving appropriate names.)

Here we stopped to rest and feed our horses at Wils.
Hawley's (or Sturgill's), who keeps his hogs belled and
sells his corn at fifty cents a bushel.

A man was plowing on the mountain, with a big pistol
buckled around him. He was probably expecting a
revenue officer. We explained that we were not in that

"service."

A few miles down one fork and up another brought
us to the Cumberland Mountain (also called Pine and
Laurel Mounatin). It ought to be called also Stone

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 39

Mountain, for it is a mass of stones from top to bottom.
While not quite so big as Big Black, it is big enough,
and bad to climb on account of the multitude of stones
which fill the narrow gully that is called a road,

I once rode a mule to the top of Pike's Peak, and I
don't know which is the worst road.

At the foot of Pine Mountain we came upon the
Cowan branch of the Kentucky River, and crossing
another mountain, we reached Whitesburg about sun-
down, sore, tired and with the headache.

I am glad I am alive. I found Whitesburg but little
changed since I was here in the army over thirty years
ago. It is the same little village of one narrow, dusty
street, some two dozen houses, and about a hundred
people, in a narrow valley on the headwaters of the
Kentucky River, within eight miles of the Virginia State
line, which is on top of the Cumberland Mountains.

Though it is more than fifty years old, it has no
church, or academy, or tailor, saddler, shoemaker or
blacksmith, one doctor, and no dentist.

It seems to have grown only in years. I have found
only two men here whom I knew in the army. The
legions of brave men I once saw here have struck their
tents and crossed over the river to rest. "Caudill's Army"
and "Marshall's Men" have followed their captains to
the great review of the "Grand Army" of the "Lord of
Hosts."

There was no place to preach but in a little, old court-
house, which our Baptist and Methodist brethren have
used for half a century. Brother Deggendorf, one of
the Louisville Seminary students, and two Mormon

40 Galax Gatherers, and

Elders from Salt Lake City occupied the pulpit on Sun-
day, one in the morning and two at night.

We explained that we were not of the same faith.

I preached on Tuesday night in the little court-house
to a few dozen people. The people of this country are
of the Hardshell Baptist persuasion, though some are
getting softer than others. There is one small Southern
Methodist Church in the county, and one lone Presby-
terian member, up the river, five miles from town.

We felt somewhat lonesome here. But the Lord had
promised to go with us "to the end of the world," and
as we had reached that place, we claimed that promise.

On Wednesday morning I preached to two women,
six children and eight men. It was hard work. Twice
every day, since, we have been trying to pull up "the
steepest place on the hill of Zion" I ever found.

The congregations increased until the little court-house
was uncomfortably filled.

On Thursday the presiding elder and circuit rider of
the Methodist Church arrived to hold their quarterly
meeting.

I knew nothing of their coming, nor they of mine.
We found them both earnest, good men, and divided
the time until the next Tuesday. On Sunday we cele-
brated the Communion, and ten people sat down to the
table, and two of them were from a distance.

Only ten in a court-house full ! It was inexpressibly
sad. I had never seen the like before. There are not
a dozen members of all churches in this town.

Our Methodist brother was a good singer, though
some of his preaching was "advanced" beyond anything

Sketches of the American- Highlanders. 41

I have ever found in the Bible. It probably suited some
"new women" and others with "new views,"

But I am a married man, and have learned to mod-
estly differ from people that I love. So we differed,
and loved, I hope. (I ought to say my wife is not a
"new woman," though she is not old.)

I preached twice daily to growing congregations until
Thursday night.

The Mormons returned the day the Methodist brother
left. I did not divide the time with them, though they
are great ladies' men. They listened and scattered their
literature about town. So the tares and the wheat are
still sown together and are growing together. Thank
God for the wheat. Not mvich of it has been sown here.

On Thursday morning I preached on the distinctive
doctrines of the Presbyterian Church, including the
mode of baptism, which is the distinguished and dis-
tinguishing doctrine up here.

The court-house was crowded and they listened an
hour and a half and expressed themselves satisfied (prob-
ably with the length), though some Baptists agreed with
us and united with us.

During the week, in spite of serious obstacles and in-
terruptions, some eighteen persons publicly confessed
their faith in Christ.

I appointed Thursday evening as the time for the
organization of the first Presbyterian Church of the
county. Just before the hour, Dr. Witherspoon glad-
ened our hearts by riding up. He had ridden across
the mountains from Big Stone Gap.

I always esteemed the doctor very highly ; but the
man who crosses the Big Black twice to preach the Gos-

42 Galax Gatherers, and

pel here has my profoundest admiration. He has it
and deserves it (though he went back another way).

His coming was most providential, for my engage-
ments at home compelled me to leave the next morn-
ing. He will remain until next week.

These hardy mountaineers are among the finest speci-
mens of manhood, with strong minds and bodies; and
only need conversion and culture to make them fine
specimens of Christian activity. Long training in ex-
treme views of God's sovereignty, and man's inability,
has made them the hardest people to reach I have ever
known. It is humanly impossible to reach the man,
with both a hard heart and a hard head. But God can
do it, and does it with plain preaching and earnest
prayer.

I found a fine lot of young people at Whitesburg; a
number of these joined our church, and they are the
hope of the future. Christian people can do no better
with God's talents in their hands than to employ them
in this great work of helping these people to a better
life.

THE IVY PATCH.

It is said that Agassiz could give a full account of an
unknown fish from a single scale, or paint the picture
of the prehistoric Saurian from his track in the rock.

Ivy Patch will answer for a scale or a track, from
which the wise can estimate the character and size of
the great work undertaken and accomplished by the
Synod of Kentucky in its evangelistic work.

Two years ago, two lone horsemen might have been

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 43

seen riding, single-file, up a little mountain stream in
the wilds of Eastern Kentucky. They were soaking
wet from a big rain, from which they could find no pro-
tection. They were hunting "the lost sheep" amid the
fastness of the miountains. There were few houses, and
they were small and humble. There was not a church
in the county, and never had been one. They were
evangelists of the Synod of Kentucky. A few of the
hardy mountaineers forded the streams and crossed the
hills to the little house of clever Matt. Bowman, on the
head of Twin Creek. God came, too, over the moun-
tains of our sins, and filled the place with His presence
and power. Many souls were there born into His king-
dom, who will one day stand on Mt. Zion. The gener-
ous mountaineer entertained nearly the whole congrega-
tion for two days, with bed and board, for the pouring
rain prevented them from going home. Tlie old, log
school-house across the mountain, on the head of Bear
Creek, furnished the nearest and only place of public
meeting. So with their little congregation, some few
on horses, some on foot, and some carried in the arms,
the evangelists crossed the mountain, through a primeval
wilderness, to the settlement on Bear Creek. The old
school-house gave them a generous welcome with wide-
open doors and windows, and fire-place and chinks, and
cracks.

It didn't hold the congregation, but they could hear
as well outside as inside. Indeed it was most outside.
But God is no "respector of persons" nor houses. And
God came, and made that old log school-house the very
gate of heaven.

The first sermon was made the power to reach sixteen

44 Galax Gatherers, and

souls, among them the aged and young, who rejoiced in
such a God and such a Gospel. They lifted up their
voices and wept for joy. You would have thought it
was a Methodist meeting instead of a Presbyterian. God
gave them the victory, and they shouted at Bear Creek.
God himself sometimes goes up with a shout, and the
Lord will come down with it, Paul says. So "the daugh-
ters of Jerusalem" shouted at Bear Creek, and the Pres-
byterian evangelists did not confine their joys, nor
hamper the simple manners of the children of the hills.

Shouting is not religion, but the religion that does not
feel like shouting sometimes, needs mending badly. It
isn't the Bear Creek kind; nor the Pentecostal kind.

When the harvest on Bear Creek was gathered, the
evangelists took up their congregation and crossed over
to the Ivy Patch, a companion of Bear Creek, which
flows into the middle fork of the Kentucky River, in Lee
County. Here there was not even a ventilated school-
house they could use, so the widow Palmer opened her
heart and her double log-cabin to the strange preachers
and the whole congregation. The same God who found
Paul, when he was lost in the stormy Adriatic, found His
children on the Ivy Patch, and gave them many souls
from the shipwreck of sin. Here the first Presbyterian
Church in Lee County, Kentucky, was organized, with
over forty members and three good officers. This is
the beginning of the history of Ivy Patch. It will be
finished in glory.

This was two years ago. On the third Sabbath of
July, 1891, a large congregation of earnest worshippers,
many of whom walked miles in the rain, assembled in a
new church on the Twin Creek, just over the hill from

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 45

Ivy Patch. This is the Ivy Patch Church, and was
built here, because of the junction of waters and ways.

The evangehsts were present, with other faithful ser-
vants, who labored in word and doctrine. It was a
day of rejoicing and thanksgiving. God had again
visited his people. He is the God of the hills, as well
as the valleys.

The new church was dedicated free of debt, five m'ore
officers elected and ordained, forty-eight new members
added to the church, and God's name glorified, and His
grace magnified.

Two years ago, and there was not a single Presby-
terian Church in Lee County; now there are three, and
this is the first. Two years ago, and there was not a
Presbyterian preacher in Lee County ; there were five
at the dedication of the Ivy Patch Church. Two years
ago, there were not a dozen members of the Presby-
terian Church in Lee County ; now there are two regu-
lar preachers, three churches organized, and some one
hundred and twenty-five members. Rev. James M.
Little is pastor of this church, a son of the soil, and
every inch a man, and he is ably supported by as true
and earnest a body of officers as rule any church in the
land. In Rev. E. P. Mickel and Rev. Alex. Henry and
Rev. A. P. Gregory, he has faithful and effective helpers
in neighboring fields.

This is a brief outline of the church organized on the
Ivy Patch. It is only a sample. God has ever multiplied
the tokens of his favor on this work. No other portion
of His vineyard has enjoyed such signal displays of His
divine approbation.

46 Galax Gatherers^ and

FROM HAZARD.

A word from these "unexplored regions" may not be
unwelcome nor unwholesome. It may serve the pur-
pose of teaching one-half the world how the other half
lives.

On the twenty-third of August I left my home for a
visit to this place, which is notorious in the bloody an-
nals of the mountains, as the capital of Perry County,
and the seat of the desperate French-Eversole war.

The Kentucky Union Railroad brought me to Jack-
son, the county seat of Breathitt County, one hundred
miles southeast of Lexington. But a few years ago it
took three days' hard riding to make this trip over the
mountains.

Jackson is a demonstraton of the Gospel. No infidel
can answer her argument. When I first visited the
place, some few years ago, there was not a church in
the town or county. It was the scene of violence, and
profanity, and drunkenness, and murder. An army of
soldiers could not keep the peace. To-day there is not a
more orderly, peaceable, prosperous town in the State.
The Gospel did it. Now they have good churches, good
preachers, teachers, homes, business houses, and a pros-
perous college, with seven teachers.

But I must hasten on to Hazard. After one brief
night at the new, handsome "Riverside Hotel," at Jack-
son (that hotel followed the Gospel), a clever brother
furnished me a saddle-horse for the long overland jour-
ney. I preferred a better way, but was glad not to have
to walk. Thl: distance to Hazard is thTrty-^iglit miles,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 47

mountain miles. There is a big difference between
mountain miles and ordinary miles, and all the differ-
ence is in favor of the mountain kind.

I started at 6 A. M., for I had some experience in
their length. Ten miles' ride up the beautiful Ken-
tucky River, between her palisades of paw-paws, and
her colonnades of wild cucumber or wahoos, under the
cool shadow of the mountains, was a delight.

I hardly saw a soul, save a few bare-footed, bare-
headed children going to school with dinner baskets (but
no books), filled with hard apples and "cow-cumbers," as
they called them. They were bright and happy, and not
bothered with "much learning."

Ten miles above Jackson, I came to the mouth of
Troublesome, a large tributary of the river. Up Trouble-
some one mile, my road turned up the Lost Creek, which
is followed with much tribulation for nineteen miles.

I could not bwt think that all Lost creeks and roads
emptied into Troublesome. This is not the only time I
got to Troublesome by the Lost Creek route.

I stopped at the post-office, at the mouth of Lost
Creek, to write a postal-card home, to cheer them with
the news of my safe arrival on Troublesome. There I
met a brave Virginia Methodist preacher, Mr. McClure,
who, on the Saturday before, preached in 'Squire Friley's
blacksmith-shop and four souls received Christ. I
thought that shop was doing better service than some
big, fine churches I know.

Just as I entered the mouth of Lost Creek, I met an
old friend, Judge Strong, who knew me when a youth
in the army, and greeted me with the remark that he
"had not seen me since we slept on a rail." Such a bed

48 Galax Gatherers, a2td

is apt to make an impression on a man. The Judge
said, "Troublesome was fifty-two miles long, and Lost
Creek nineteen, and they are full of sinners to the head,
and no church on either." Let the Blue Grass people
"look on this picture, then on that."

Several miles up the Lost Creek, I stopped at a
man's house to get my horse fed and a "bite" for my-
self. These mountain people are hospitable to a fault,
and Gran. Noble was no exception. Fifteen cents was
all he would take for man and beast, and a big musk-
melon thrown in. He and Mrs. Noble had eleven chil-
dren, most of them grown, all well and hearty, and
never had a doctor. This is a good place for health.

Here I met Mr. Nipper, generally called Mr. Napper,
but he said his name was Napier. See how we get our
names. Adam would not know his children, by name.

I travelled with Mr. Nipper-Napper, up to the mouth
of Ten Mile Creek, and all the rest of my long journey
alone, with God and the mountains. Glorious company !
We would all be better if we had such company oftener.
What more elevating, ennobling, purifying, than the
great mountains. And God ! His company makes
Heaven. That was a glorious ride in such company.

The shadows of the great mountains were falling over
the valleys, when I crossed the mountain from Lost
Creek to Lot's Creek, and still Hazard was miles away.

Inquiries from the natives seemed to indicate that
Hazard was travelling about as fast as I was. One
bright youth, of some sixteen summers, gave me com-
fort by assuring me that Hazard was a "right smart
piece ofif." I found his answer correct, as I rode into

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 49

the little mountain town at 7 P. M., about as weary as
my horse.

Hazard's size is entirely out of proportion to its repu-
tation. No town of its size in the State has such a
name. It is the synonym of violence and bloodshed.
It is the seat of the French- Eversole war, in which some
seventeen men were killed, and for four years all law
was abolished. And, although the only town in Perry
County, and the county seat, it consists of only a court-
house, jail, four stores and seventeen families. It lies in
a narrow valley, surrounded by mountains, on the north
fork of the Kentucky River.

There is no church or school-house here, and never
was. War was inevitable. Here I am trying to preach
the Gospel in the court-house, and teach them a better
way. Pray for us.

FROM THE TROUBLESOME.

I am so far out of the world, I have never heard
whether my former letter reached you (or the public)
or not, but I will presume on your goodness and give
you another turn.

I am glad to have more and better news than I had
before. On my arrival at Hazard, I soon found the
only Presbyterian in the county, and felt a little more
at home. I also soon found two of our foreign mission-
aries, Brothers Mickel and Mott. Sawyers. (The natives
call us all "foreigners.") Brother Mickel was teaching
the County Teacher's Institute, and preaching between
times. Brother Sawyers had spent most of the summer

50 Galax Gatherers, and

here in the service of our Evangelistic Committee. He
is the right man in the right place — earnest, energetic,
sensible, devoted, and not afraid of things, and knows
everybody by name and where they live.

Though very weary after my long ride from Jackson,
I preached that night in the court-house. There was
nowhere else to preach, for though the town and county
are some seventy years old, there is neither church nor
school-house here and never was. No wonder it has
such a bloody record of seven murders in one year and
seventeen in four years, and forty-six orphan children
as the result of "the war" between the factions.

The congregation was not very large, for the town
has only some seventeen families, and some of them
do not go to church, and some are afraid to go at night.
The prospect was about as cheerless, I thought, as
Noah's experience before the flood. And when Brother
Mickel left us on Friday, only hope remained, and that
a faint one. People unacquainted with such work have
no conception of its difficulties. The people generally
have no use for any religion, and less for our kind.

But God's word "stands sure," and we preached and
pleaded His promises. He pitied and forgave our un-
belief, and blessed His word. In one week we succeeded
in organizing a Presbyterian Church of thirty-eight
members, with three elders and one deacon, and raised
a subscription of over six hundred dollars to build a
church. To God be all the glory. It was manifestly
His work.

Judge Combs, the leading citizen and principal owner
of the town and country, became a member on profes-
sion, and was made an elder. Dr. William T. Wilson,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 51

the only original Presbyterian, was made another, and
Jere Mcintosh the third, John B. Eversole, whose
father, a leading lawyer, was murdered during "the
war," was made a deacon.

On Thursday morning I crossed the mountain beyond
the river to Big Creek, where I preached until Satur-
day night, in an open log school-house to good congre-
gations. Brother Sawyers was always present, faithfully
working in the vineyard.

Many difficulties had to be overcome or submitted to,
no one to help us, few seats except rough rails, lamps
without chimneys, and few of them, primeval singing,
and a small choir with two books. But God prefers
to conquer by few, and gave them the victory. Some
twenty-three confessed Christ, and most of them joined
the Presbyterian Church and received baptism, giving
our church at Hazard some sixty members. We could
have organized a church on Big Creek, but thought best
to defer it. We met some fine people there, and their
hospitality received another illustration.

My good host had only one bed-room, besides the
kitchen, for his family and company, and he turned none
away, until there were seven of us in one little room and
no ventilation.

On Monday I left Big Creek for the Troublesome, a
large tributary of the Kentucky River. Brother Saw-
yers preceded me and preached there Sunday night.

I passed through Hazard and was glad to find our
people in earnest about beginning their church. Judge
Combs gave the nicest site in town, overlooking the
valley and the village. They expect to begin to build
this week. The ladies were at work to raise money for

52 Galax Gatherers, and

the organ. There is only one in this county. Twelve
more mountain miles, through a pouring rain, brought
me to the waters of the Troublesome.

The so-called road from the head of Lot's Creek to
the mouth of Pigeon Roost, on Troublesome, is as bad
as I ever remember, and I have been travelling the road
to Jordan a good while. The ascent to the summit of
Pike's Peak is better, to my personal knowledge. To
make matters worse, my faithful horse lost a shoe, and
the only man near the road could not shoe a horse. He
only shod oxen. Take the other road when you come
this way. This route is too rough and too lonesome.
For miles I saw no house, nor human being; even the
birds had fled the desolation and left the wilderness voice-
less. To a man who loves company, it was awful.

The only thing I heard in miles was the rattle of a
cow-bell ; the only thing I saw was a lonesome log-
cabin, where the kitchen and dining-room, family-room,
bed-chamber, library and parlor, were all in one room,
and that a little one.

A score of bare-headed, bare-footed children coming
from school announced the approach of civilization, and
exhibited the jewels of the Octavias of the hills. Their
hills may be barren, but their homes are not. The birds
may have flown, but the children are left.

This poor and sparsely-settled county, where the
people can only live along narrow valleys, has forty-
seven school districts in it, and often one hundred chil-
dren in a district. Here is the necessity and oppor-
tunity of the church and the Gospel.

This whole country is practically without either. No

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 53

churches or Sabbath schools, no competent preachers,
for this great region full of souls.

It made my heart sick to behold them now, and con-
template them in the future, when their sorrowful years
will outnumber the leaves in their vast unbroken forests.
Let the people of our country be warned of their danger
and admonished of their duty to these perishing people.
The curse of poverty and the desolation of sin are over
them all. Without our help, they must perish.

The evening brought me to the waters of the Trouble-
some. This is a large stream, over fifty miles in length,
and one of the largest tributaries of the upper Ken-
tucky River. It passes through Knott, Perry and
Breathitt Counties. In all its long course there is only
one (unfinished) church, and that is at Hindman, the
county seat of Knott County.

I had not passed this way since a youth, when I fol-
lowed the bold rider, John Morgan. What memories
crowded upon my heart as I thought upon those van-
ished years ! How changed the times, and men and me !
Following Morgan then ; following Christ now ! A sol-
dier of the Confederacy then ; a soldier of the Cross now !
Why should I complain of the march, bivouac, and the
privations and the battle now, and endure it all so cheer-
fully then.

These were lessons from real life. And then how dif-
ferent the cause; how glorious the conflict; how certain
the victory now ! A few more days on Troublesome,
and endless years in Paradise !

54 Galax Gatherers, and

A LITTLE TRIP UP THE BIG SANDY.

As our Field Secretary, Mr. Murdoch, was fully occu-
pied at our new college in the Cumberlands, I thought
some one ought to visit our missions on the Big Sandy
River, so I concluded to go myself.

A hundred miles brought me to Catlettsburg, at the
mouth of the river. I was glad to find Brother Boggs
building a new home, more in proportion to his size and
dignity and worth. I need not say it will be a big house.

The evening train on the Chattaroi road took me to
its terminus, at White House, fifty-four miles up the
river.

The lower Sandy Valley is beautiful, with its rolling
green hills and picturesque homes. A lovely little white
chapel was honored with the name of Bishop Kava-
naugh, my father's friend and mine, "who being dead,
yet speaketh."

At the mouth of the Tug Fork of the Big Sandy we
passed Louisa, a nice town in a green valley. It was
my first visit to Louisa, though once before I started
to go to see her with a company of friends in 1863, but
she had more company who objected, and we deferred
our call until later.

About 10 o'clock the next morning Brother Howes,
our missionary, came for me in a buggy. We crossed
the river where Mr. Dollarhide and his friend lost their
lives in a house-boat saloon. They were killed by some
other friends who drank too much of Dollarhide's whis-
key, it is said. We got our dinner at a wayside hotel,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 55

and drove ten miles np the river over hills and through
clouds of dust to Paintsville, on the Big Paint, the capi-
tal of Johnson County.

The prospect of the railroad had infused new life and
noise into the quiet mountain village, and lots had gone
up to the city prices. We had only time to call on
Brother West, of the M. E. Church, and passed on up
the Paint and Burnette's Fork to Oil Spring, nine miles
farther, over a rough mountain road. I saw but one
thing on the long way worthy of mention. On a moun-
tain brow I noticed a beautiful stone mausoleum. It
was so unique and unusual, I stopped to see its builder,
the aged Charles Green Rule, who took five hundred
hard-earned dollars to honor the memory of his faithful
wife. For fifty years or m;ore, she had lovingly and
patiently filled her humble station as wife and mother,
and this gentle old man did all he could to show his
appreciation of her worth. I honor him for it.

Night brought us to the humble three-room cottage
of Mr. Howes, and I needed no opiate to help me sleep
that night. The old camp ground had been abandoned,
but a large school-house accommodated a good congre-
gation of the attentive mountaineers.

I preached twice on the Sabbath to large crowds, in
spite of a big "foot-washing" in the neighborhood. After
our services a large number confessed Christ. Sunday
night I returned to the Oil Spring, where there are a
few houses, but no oil spring. Names are sometimes
as deceiving as some people, and that suggests that
Henry Howes, the father of our missionary, a venerable
and intelligent old man, told me his name was originally

56 Galax Gatheeers^ and

Howe, but how Howe becames Howes he did not know.
So Napier has become Napper and Nipper up here.

On Sunday I preached morning and evening at Oil
Spring to fine congregations, largely of young people.
Rev. Messrs. Williams and Moore, of Salyersville, came
over (eight miles) to the services, and gave us valuable
assistance. They need great help in this large field.
An aged native told me that Paint Creek, which is some-
times a river, fifty miles long, is almost destitute of in-
telligent Gospel preaching. There are two or three
churches on its long course, belonging to brethren who
oppose Sunday schools and missions and education, in
spite of all Gospel teaching and God's commandments.
To escape this suicidal policy, some of the people have
organized a "Come-out Society" as a protest, and the
only church on Upper Big Paint is "Jack's church,"
with no other name or connection. Jack built it and
runs it, I trust, for the glory of God and the salvation
of his neighbors.

The people through all this back country are generally
very poor, unable to provide educated preachers or teach-
ers. As a general thing, they are not so lawless and vio-
lent as further back in the Cumberlands, but they are
sadly in need of help.

It is next to impossible to get any one to conduct a
Sabbath school or teach the scores of bright mountain
boys and girls. If ever their ancestors possessed it, it
is a "lost art" among their children. It is pitiful to see
thousands of these strong, bright, resolute mountain
children grow up with little or no training to make them
valuable Christian men and women. Unless they get

I
-7.

a

as

'A

J.

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 57

help from beyond their mountains, generations of them
will perish in their sins. Who is responsible?

We are trying, with the help of God and some good
people, to supply this crying need, and send the B! ;i .
of Life to those who are starving at our doors.

ONE WOMAN.

WHAT CAN SHE DO?

Listen, and I will answer by telling you what one
woman did. She is not young, nor an active woman
either, nor ri' h, nor very attractive in person, but she
is more, as we shall see.

Last summer she determined to do something for the
helpless in our own land and while she could neither
preach, nor sing, nor sew, nor play an organ, she thought
she could tell the 'old, old story, of Jesus and His love."
Anyhow, she determined to try.

She selected a place in the mountains, without a
church or Sabbath school or preacher. It was far from
any of these, and over twenty miles from the nearest
town or doctor. To this destitute region she went,
in a heavy road-wagon, because she couldn't ride horse-
back ; and she went to stay, and took her little baggage
with her. The long mountain road was so rough she
had to walk much of the way. At one place, the wagon
had to be let down with ropes.

Here she found a home, in a little house among poor,
but clever, people, fhe opened her Sabbath school and
taught all the childre i and grown people, too, who came

58 Galax Gatherers, and

in scores, walking to hear the Gospel story from loving
lips. She had no conveyance, so had to walk from house
to house, and to the school-house, often through mud
and water. Her Sabbath school ran all the week.

When the weather got so cold she could no longer
use the little public school-house, she opened the school
and church in her one little room. Here, all through
the winter, she taught all who came, the "sweet old
story," and sowed the seed of eternal life in many hungry
hearts, of old and young.

Experience having taught her some simple remedies
for the sick, she became the substitute for the doctor,
and relieved many a suffering body, as well as heart,
where there was neither doctor nor preacher.

Once her room was a refuge for a poor girl whose
drunken husband wanted to kill her. Another time it
was an asylum for a poor girl whose reason had fled.
Again, it was the death-room of a little babe, whose life,
she alone, watched depart to its Savior's arms. The
exposure and anxiety put her in bed, twenty-five miles
from a doctor, or a pound of tea or coffee, or sugar, or
a pint of coal-oil, and an impassable road between.

The winter was most rigorous, even for the moun-
taineers, and much more so for her, after many years'
residence in the far South. But God brought her safely
through it all, with many tokens of His love and care.

The opening spring-time and glorious summer gave
her enlarged opportunities, and with the love of all those
poor, but grateful, people, she is now busily trying to
win souls for the Master, and "lay up treasures in
heaven."

God only knows through what privations and hard-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 59

ships she has passed, and God alone can adequately re-
ward her. She has won a place among the constella-
tions of heaven. Nor is she alone. The Society of
Soul Winners (which sent her and supports her) has
twenty-five consecrated women at work in the mountains
of North Carolina and Kentucky.

They are only women, some of them timid, delicate
women, but they have the "Omnipotent power of weak-
ness" to sustain them. God is with them and that makes
them strong.

Have you a part in this blessed work? Remember
Paul said: "I entreat thee, also, to help those women
which labored with me in the Gospel."

A LITTLE TRIP TO TURKEY CREEK.

Two young women from the far West (Misses Cun-
ningham and Foster, from Kansas and Iowa) had left
their homes and friends and gone, at the Master's com-
mand, far up in the Cumberlands. Strangers in a strange
land, they went to lead the little Highland children to a
happier life, and to help those who had no better help-
ers. There were three public schools on Turkey Creek,
in Bloody Breathitt, but neither church nor Sabbath
school. Leaving Brother W. S. Trimble, of Virginia, at
Puncheon Camp, I crossed the Kentucky River and
rode up the Turkey Creek until dark, before I found the
home of the strange teachers. They were hidden away,
between two big mountains, in a home where only one
lone woman and two girls were keeping house. But it

60 Galax Gatherers, and

was a hospitable and comfortable home, and they were
welcome and happy.

From the grand prairies of their sunset homes to these
wild and rugged mountains was a vast change ; but its
very contrast was an inspiration, and the gorgeous foliage
of the Highlands surpassed anything on their Western
plains.

They were well and contented, and busy in the vine-
yard, where they were sadly needed.

Two generous Highlanders had offered to give them
a beautiful situation for their mission-house and school,
and one gave them half of his store-house, worth one
hundred dollars, towards building a chapel. The next
morning, bright and early, we started to select the place
for their future home. They out-walked my horse, but
they had a better path than I had — down a rocky creek.
But they were walkers, anyway. The natives said they
were the "walkinest women on Turkey Creek." Ten
miles is moderate exercise for them, and they took sun-
shine into scores of Highland homes, as they walked.
But you remember that Jesus "walked in Galilee," and
doubtless walked with them, in this other Galilee.

We found the place, where over one hundred children
were in one school, and hundreds more not very far
away. Leaving one of them to sweep the school-house,
I took the other behind me and rode down the creek to
see Mr. Griffith, who gave half the store. Four boys
and one pretty, sunny-haired girl furnished this home
better than some millionaires, and the mother herself
looked like a girl. (She was married at fourteen.)

An engagement at Shoulder Blade compelled me to
leave Turkey Creek, so bidding all good-bye, I crossed

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 61

the mountains back to the river, at the mouth of Old
Buck Creek. On the mountain I met a tall, old High-
lander, walking in his sock-feet, and carrying his shoes
in his hand.

From the top of the mountain the view of the river
beggars description. God had painted ten thousand
trees in crimson and purple and gold, and the beautiful
mountains looked like giant bouquets aflame. It was
worth the labor and fatigue to behold such a display of
God's infinite wisdom and love and power. I pity those
who never had a view of such a glorious panorama of
heaven and earth.

Crossing the river, I reached Shoulder Blade by 9
A. M. Brother Trimble came at 10, and preached a
fine sermon to a good congregation, for Saturday. He
never had more respectful, or attentive, listeners.

We were glad to meet here three of our faithful lady
mission teachers, who had crossed the mountains to hear
the sermon — Mrs. Andrews, from Haddix Fork, and
Misses Houston and Sights, from Puncheon Camp. I
was glad to find the new mission-house here completed
and lumber on the ground to finish the chapel and
school building, all given by a generous lady in Maine.
The new college on Puncheon Camp is covered (with
twenty thousand shingles), a fine bell surmounting it,
and the interior being rapidly finished. It will accom-
modate three hundred or more of the Highland lads and
lassies, when completed.

Evening found Brother Trimble and me six miles up
the beautiful river, at Canoe. We received a hearty
welcome by our teachers there, Misses Annie Peck and
Nannie Brcnyn, two splendid women from North Caro

62 Galax Gatherers, and

lina. All were delighted over the prospect of a fine
school here, in a large new house, presented to us by a
noble woman in Atlanta.

In spite of a funeral nearby, Brother Trimble had a
fine congregation in our church at lo A. M. (Nothing
can compete with funerals in the mountains, which al-
ways occur at this season.) Having an appointment at
Elkatawa, I had to leave Brother Trimble at Canoe,
and ride and walk ten miles over the mountains and
down Cane Creek by dark. Between the rain above
and the creek below, I got pretty wet, but Brother Evans
had a fire in his kitchen stove at our mission-house. So
I soon dried out and preached in the Kessler Chapel to
a fine congregation, who walked through a pouring rain
and pitch darkness, from far and near. Such people, I
hope, will occupy front seats in heaven.

Have you an interest in this effort to help them.

A VISIT TO RAVEN ROOST.

One of our faithful missionaries had been laboring
for more than a year in a difficult and discouraging field,
and I had never been able to visit him, until lately.

After a journey of a hundred miles, I found him, at
nightfall, in a little mountain home among his grateful
parishioners.

Edwin Preston was reared in a very different home
in a beautiful city, but love of Christ and His lost chil-
dren constrained him to give up all things for this hard
life and service. His first mission was among the Mor-
mons of Utah, then he came to the mountains of Ken-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 63

tiicky. Since he left his mother's home, she has gone
to her heavenly mansion, leaving, to bless the world,
three sons to preach the gospel and one daughter to
carry it to the heathen beyond the seas. What a diadem
will grace that mother's brow in heaven!

A beautiful Sabbath climbed the mountains of Breath-
itt and lighted up the deep valleys of the Quicksand
River. For quiet and comfort, Mr. Preston had built
himself a little house on the top of the mountain, five
hundred feet high, and called it Raven Roost. I do not
see how he ever got the planks up there, but it required
only a few, as it had only one little room, and no ceiling,
finishing or furnishing, and cost only $15.00. He made
his chair and bedstead of little saplings which grew on
the mountain. It was a very little house, but big enough
for God and him, and no more is needed to be happy.
I am not as young as Mr, Preston, and I didn't see how
I could ever get up that mountain, but I determined to
see Raven Roost, and I went. It repaid the labor to
reach it.

The world was beneath us, and only God and the stars
above; or only the stars, for God was there, on that
"Mount of Privilege." Below, on every side, was a
world of sin and sorrow and suffering. Around were
only God and His birds and flowers and forests. It was
good to be there. But the sun was climbing over the
mountains, and a congregation gathering up the Quick-
sand at the Hounshell Mission, so, reluctantly, we had
to come down into the world again, and try and per-
suade its sorrowful people to seek a better home in
heaven.

It was some three miles up the little crystal river to

64 Galax Gatherers, and

the school-house. There is no church in that part of
the country, and only one on the river, in forty miles.
Mr. Preston "cut across" the mountains on foot and I
rode around them, up the river. At lo A. M. the large
school-house was crowded with young and old, nearly
every one of whom walked. Over fifty of them were
Sunday school children, the pupils of a noble Christian
lady who had just swapped Washington City for the
Quicksand, and was delighted with the trade. She had
gained much more than she ha3^ lost — the priceless joy
of self-denying service for Him who had denied Himself
for her.

After the Sabbath school exercises and a good talk
by Mr. Preston, I tried to tell them the "old, old story"
— old to the world, but new to many of them. They lis-
tened with deep interest, in spite of uncomfortable seats
and sundry interruptions. (The pretty babies and the
boys' dogs will insist on coming to Sunday school.) At
the close of the service nearly every one in the house
came forward to express his love for God and faith in
Christ as a Savior. Doubtless there was joy in heaven
that day, as well as in Hounshell School-house on the
Quicksand. These are the children of the same loving
Savior who once walked on the mountains of Galilee,
and still loves to walk with His humblest servants.

After the morning service, "Aunt Polly Ann" gave us
a good dinner, and put heaven deeper in her debt. This
aged Highland mother and grandmother opened her
heart and home to the strange teacher from Washington
City, and gave her the best things in both. Heaven will
repay her gloriously, when He says, "Inasmuch as ye
have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,

. Sketches of the American Highlanders. 65

ye have done it unto me. Come ye blessed of my Father,
inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foun-
dation of the world."

But the sun and work on Quicksand do not wait; so
we had to follow Mr. Preston four miles down the Dc? u-
tiful river to another school-house, where he has another
mission.

After the Sabbath school, I preached again to a full
house and many more expressed their trust in Jesus,
who asks no more to "save a poor sinner." It was late
and hot, but we had to cross a mountain to Jackson
before night, so we had to say good-bye to Raven Roost
and its master and builder. But we had the joy of
knowing that the Master and Builder of heaven and
earth will never leave Raven Roost nor the humblest
home and toiler on the Quicksand.

A VISIT TO SHOULDER BLADE.

The old Highland settlers certainly had a genius for
queer names. Shoulder Blade is the name they gave
to a beautiful stream between steep mountains on the
upper Kentucky River. Just above Shoulder Blade is
Old Buck Creek, and just below is Puncheon Camp, and
no one knows how or when they ever got these names.
Like those little streams, they "go on forever." . How
important are the little things of life. They still go on.

Well, I had never had time to visit Shoulder Blade,
though often invited. They had no church, nor Sab-
bath school, nor prayer-meeting, and wanted them all.
We had sent a consecrated lady there to teach the chil-

66 Galax Gatherers, and

dren and conduct the Sabbath schools, and she met a
warm welcome from the nntutored Highlanders, the
most hospitable of all people.

I left home on the 6:45 A. M. train. After a brief
visit to the new mission teachers at Athol (Miss Reeves
and Miss Young), from New Jersey, I reached Elka-
tawa late in the evening. There I met Mr. Granville
Hounshell, who had come from the Shoulder Blade to
take me to his home. Mr. Morton, our missionary, at
Elkatawa, would not let us go until we saw how nice a
supper his young Georgia bride could prepare. It was
fit for a king, though we were only poor wayfarers. But
we had royal appetites.

At 7 P. M. we started over the mountains, six miles
to the Shoulder Blade. Mr. Hounshell was good enough
to let me ride the best saddle-horse (which was a mule).
It was dark before we reached the mud-tunnel, a deep,
gloomy gorge at the foot of the mountain, and it was
bedtime when we reached Mr. Hounshell's hospitable
home ; but every soul was sitting up, on the porch, wait-
ing for us, even the babies.

The Sabbath sun rose behind the clouds, which soon
began to pour water down the valleys, and on the thirsty
patches of corn and beans. We were up early, and had
breakfast and visitors before 6 o'clock. A rift in the
clouds at 10 A. M. let a crowd fill the school-house, who
walked there through the mud and rain to hear the Gos-
pel. I preached my best, and was sorry it was not
better. But God honored His Word, and many con-,
fessed their Savior, some for the first time.

At 2 P. M. the house was filled again, though a big
rain and thunder-storm prevailed most of the evening.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 67

Lewis Hensley and William Little, two of our native
evangelists, spoke earnestly to their neighbors about the
great salvation for the poor, as well as the rich. I wish
all men were as earnest as these humble heralds of the
hills, and as eloquent. I "added a word," and left Mrs.
Andrews to teach the Sunday school, which included
about all of the congregation.

But before I left they promised to give the prettiest
site on the Shoulder Blade for a church, and cut and
saw the logs and put them on the ground and build a
church, if we would give them the doors and windows
and nails, and send them a man to show them how to
build the house.

Night found me back at Elkatawa, at hospitable
Brother Morton's new and comfortable manse, the gift
of a wise and liberal Christian I never saw.

I might add that he gave the church also. Such
people are as rare as they are blessed.

An early train took me down to Glencairn the next
morning, where I stopped to see how Miss Kathleen
Askew, from Atlanta, was doing. She had exchanged
a city school for the little Highland Mission, in the deep
canyon at Glencairn. Of course, she was busy and
happy, though a stranger in this land. He promised to
be with her until the end of the world, and He was
there.

The bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked little Highlanders were
happy to have such a teacher, and showed how even
they could learn, if they had a chance. One wee little
lassie had learned a page in the Catechism every day the
past week. In spelling and reading and singing they
showed remarkable aptitude. They had no desks to

68 Galax Gatherers^ and

cipher on, so they all got down on their knees and
ciphered on the benches. There is nothing too hard for
genius to solve, and Homer and Paul and Grover, with
their sisters, were there on their knees "working sums."

At half-past one Monday afternoon I preached to the
children and a few grown people who left the fields to
listen to the "old, old story." They were all very nice
and proper, and fairly well clothed, though the children
were all barefooted but one, and all had hats but one.
There was not a homely child in the school, and several
of them were beautiful. All are beautiful to God.

Evening brought me to the Natural Bridge, where I
took the train for my home. On the train I met the
venerable Dr. Saunders, our missionary at Buckhorn,
going to Danville and Louisville on business. He is
now past seventy, and entirely blind, yet he preached at
Crockettsville yesterday, and rode twenty miles through
the mountains, on a led-horse, and expects to do the
same on next Saturday, and preach next Sunday. How
such a man shames the rest of us. But there are few
such men left. May God multiply their number. The
church and the world need them.

Have you a part in this blessed work of giving the
gospel to our own long-neglected countrymen? If not,
why not? Your help is needed, both for you and them.

"PROCTOR BILL."

Those familiar with the history of Jere McCauley
will not be surprised at this story of Proctor Bill. In
many respects they are very similar.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 69

Some years ago I had an appointment to preach in a
little mountain school-house on the Ivy Patch Creek, in
Lee County, Kentucky. On going there I found that
Rev. William Little, alias "Proctor Bill," had an appoint-
ment also for the same time. I had never met him, and
knew nothing of his character.

He was a typical Highlander, big-boned, erect, reso-
lute in word and action, and with deep-set, piercing eyes
which showed a dauntless spirit. I insisted on his
preaching, but he modestly and firmly declined, saying
he was but an ignorant mountain man, and would not
preach where there were others to do it.

I preached a short sermon, and then asked him and
Mr. Griffiths, our young mission teacher, to speak a
word to the children. To this modest request he yielded
a reluctant assent.

I shall never forget his manner, or his matter. Both
were peculiar and unique. He spoke with tremendous
earnestness and energy. Pie was Boanerges, in action.
No one could doubt his sincerity, nor his courage, yet
his language was as simple as a child's, for he knew no
other, being an unlearned man. It was the speech of
the common people, who heard Jesus gladly. It was
largely the language of the Bible.

It was in the summer-time, but he had on a suit of
winter clothes, and the effort of speaking covered him
with perspiration. Pie was profoundly moved, and he
moved the people as few college men could have done.

As to the matter of his discourse, I was as much sur-
prised. It was largely Scriptural and entirely evangeli-
cal. His quotations were apt and correct, and the won-
der grew when I learned how and where he was reared.

70 Galax Gatherers, and

I shall never forget his introduction. As near as I
can recollect it, he said: "My friends, you know me.
I was born and bred in this country. On this very spot
where this school-house stands I once sold and drank
whiskey. Left an orphan by a good father, I had no
one to teach me to do right. My mother was a godless
woman. I never heard her pray in my life. When a
boy, I tried to kill Bob Hill for striking a smaller boy.
As I grew older and larger I grew more wicked and
desperate. In drinking, gambling and fighting I was a
leader. Just over this hill I tried to kill a man for an
insult. I was tried and sent to the penitentiary for
three years. I had never learned to read, and I never
owned a Bible. I neither feared God nor regarded
man.

"In the penitentiary, I was compelled to attend the
prison worship on the Sabbath day. A Mr. Morrison
preached, and God sent his words to my heart. I felt
I was a lost sinner, and for twelve days I could neither
eat nor sleep. I lay in my cell, the most miserable of
men, and cried to God for pardon. Blessed be His
name, He heard my cry and pardoned my sins and
saved my soul. I rose up a new man, and determined
to read God's Word. I was then thirty-nine years old,
but, by hard work, I learned to read, and determined to
tell others what he had done for my soul. This is why
I am here to-day." This is only a bare outline of what
he said.

It was a remarkable discourse and produced a pro-
found impression. Men knew he was honest and earnest,
and not afraid to say what he believed. Since the day
he left the penitentiary, he has been trying to preach the

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 71

Gospel in the very country which knew his sin and
shame. Men hear him and wonder at the wonderful
change. Many have been led to Christ through his
ministry.

Having no horse, he walks across the mountains to his
appointments. Having no money, he has no books nor
clerical clothes. His earthly possessions consist of a
wife and four little girls and a boy, on a rented moun-
tain farm. This he works through the week and walks
to his appointments on Sundays, sometimes fifteen
miles.

To enable him to give more time to his work, and
to help him clothe his wife and children, we have, for a
few years, been paying him a little salary — a few dollars
a month. It is the first he ever received.

Last Saturday he came to Glen Athol for me to preach
for him at the Middle Fork Church, where he and Mr.
Boyd were holding a meeting. I gladly went and
found a multitude of Highlanders assembled, almost all
of whom had walked for miles over the mountains. He
had begun the service half an hour before I could reach
the church, at lo o'clock in the morning, on a half-
broken mule.

For an hour and a half the crowded church listened
with profound interest. "Proctor Bill" had gathered
them before, and led the singing. At the close, I was
impelled to give an invitation to all who would accept
Christ as a Savior, and over twenty-five persons came
forward for the first time. It was a sight to make "joy
in the presence of the angels of God."

Most of them were young men and women, and no
country can show a handsomer company than they were.

72 Galax Gatherers^ and

I was reminded of General Howard's astonishment at
the appearance of these Highlanders, when he first came
to visit our missions. He said he never saw handsomer
young people anywhere, in all his wide experience. Ex-
posure and hardship soon make many of them prema-
turely old.

After the morning service I went home with "Proctor
Bill" to dinner. It was my first visit. I had never seen
a member of his family except his wife, who confessed
Christ at Frozen Creek when I organized that church.
I rode a mile or more up the Kentucky River, with a-
guide, crossed the river, and found the little cabin of
two rooms, in a corn-field. It stood in a narrow valley,
between a steep mountain and a deep river, and all of his
four acres were in corn, to feed his family. He had
built the cabin himself, of rough boards. I was re-
minded of the song I heard in Jere McCauley's Mis-
sion in New York City: "My Father is rich in houses
and lands ; with Jesus my Savior, I'm the child of a
King."

Recently his little boy, Tom, was drowned in the
rV^r, and the shadow had not yet gone from that sor-
rowful home. But it was a home of Christian faith and
submission to God's will, and a home of prayer.

Though among the poorest I ever entered, God hon-
ored it with His presence, and made it "a palace of the
King."

At 2 P. M. I preached again to a large congregation,
who had walked miles away to dinner, and then re-
turned. It was a typical Highland congregation. Not
a foreigner was among them. Most of the men wore
no coats, but they were strong and masterful men. The

Sketches of the Amerioait Highlanders. 73

women were modestly and plainly dressed, generally,
with no effort to be in the fashion, except such as their
grandmothers had set. Their earnestness and simplicity,
their desire for better things, appealed to my heart, and
it was a privilege and pleasure to preach to them.

To thousands of such, beyond all churches and Gos-
pel privileges, the faithful Soul Winners are carrying
the Bread of Life. To those who help, God has prom-
ised a "kingdom in heaven." Are you among the num-
ber who will be so honored and blessed?

CHENOWEE.

Among hundreds of noble women who have helped in
the Soul Winners' Mission work was Miss Clemmie
Patton, daughter of Rev. Dr. J. G. Patton, of Decatur,
Georgia. During her service in the Cumberlands, her
distinguished father made her a visit, and the following
letter graphically describes his experience:

"On the 29th of July I left my home, in Decatur,
Georgia, for the mountains of Kentucky. About 6
o'clock of the next day, my daughter, who had preceded
me several weeks, flagged the train at Chenowee, in
Breathitt County. This spot I shall never forget. Only
one little house to be seen, and that some distance away,
and just in front of us was the mouth of a great tunnel.
There by the track, in the gloomy shadows of the moun-
tains, holding the hand of a little mountain girl, stood
my child, anxious to receive me. Along the way over
the mountain for a mile and a half to the place where I

74 Galax Gatheeers, and

was to stay, the people, old and young, gathered to bid
me welcome, for they had been prepared for my coming.
So soon as we reached the house of Mr. Robert Cundiff
I was made to feel at home. I shall always remember
that dear family for their kind treatment of me. Nobler
spirits do not live in the great State of Kentucky. That
night my rest was sweet. On the morning of the next
day I walked out, and oh ! the mountains ! the moun-
tains ! Ruskin says they are the 'beginning and the end
of all natural scenery.' I love the mountains. They
show forth God's might. They tell of His protecting
power, for 'As the mountains are round about Jerusalem
so the Lord is round about them that fear Him.' Jesus
spent much of His time in the solitude of the moun-
tains. He preached His first sermon on a mountain;
He fed multitudes on the mountain; He was crucified
on a mountain ; He was transfigured on a mountain, and
He left this earth from the top of a mountain. If you
want to rest, go to the mountains. If you want to
grow strong, climb the mountains. If you want to get
back to nature, roam the mountains. If you would
have your heart stirred with the sympathy and com-
passion of Jesus, see and talk with the people of the
mountains. The people in these parts have been much
misrepresented. That there are vicious people here [
will not deny. But such is the case everywhere, even
in Lexington, Louisville and Atlanta. The people who
live in the plains cannot boast of their natural goodness
over those who live in the mountains. Wherever differ-
ence exists, we ask what makes it? Paul answers,
'Grace.' Where is boasting then? To know the people
even in Breathitt County, you will be convinced that

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 75

they are naturally kind, hospitable and true. They are
almost entirely without education, in the technical sense
of the term, but that is for the want of an opportunity.
I can safely say this much : That for native mental
strength, the boys and girls of the mountains will com-
pare favorably with the boys and girls of the cities. All
they need is an opportunity, and their daughters would
grace the most cultured society, and their boys would
make leaders among men. They are wanting in Chris-
tianity to an alarming extent, but where does the fault
lie? They have a few mountain preachers, but in many
cases they are immoral men, and generally wholly illiter-
ate. The people are starving for the 'Bread of Life,' and
they eagerly take it when it is given them. The fields
are literally 'white to the harvest.' During our ten
days' meeting at Chenowee, the people came, some of
them walking ten miles across the mountains. I could
realize in a measure how the Master felt when He stood
before the hungry multitudes. I never preached to a
people more orderly, more attentive, and scarcely ever
to those so eager to hear the Gospel. During those ten
days, without excitement, forty professed faith in Christ:.
It was a rare privilege to labor among such people.
What an opportunity for the Christian Church of
America! The situation is unique. It is one that jus-
tifies the policy of the 'Society of Soul Winners,' under
the leadership of Dr. Gucrrant, of Wilmore, Kentucky,
the utilizing of the Christian forces that are available
from all the evangelical denominations in' the country.
Some say that this is irregular; true, but if the work
cannot be accomplished in a regular way, it must bfe
done in an irregular way. What these dear people need

76 Galax Gatherers, and

first of all is salvation. Christ they must have, or perish,
and those who are trying to give them Christ should be
encouraged. It is very easy to criticise methods, but
when the cry of these people fill your soul with Christ-
like compassion you rejoice that they are fed by whom-
soever it may be done. From Chenowee, I went over
the mountain to Puncheon Camp, and there I found the
people of that section, under the direction of Dr. Guer-
rant, erecting a large school-building. The blessing
which this school will be to the boys and girls of the
mountains cannot be estimated. Money sent to Dr.
Guerrant for this purpose will pay large dividends, im-
perishable for this life and the life to come. Any of our
ministers who will spend a week preaching to the moun-
tain people next summer will receive inspiration and
hope in the Gospel here, and bright stars in their crowns
hereafter. Consecrated young men and women who
would spend a profitable vacation next summer cannot
do better than to work among the needy, and most
appreciative people of the mountains. I cannot put the
truth too strongly. If the vast multitudes in the moun-
tains of Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina and Vir-
ginia and Georgia could be brought to Christ and their
strong characters developed for Him, what a force would
be added to the army of the Lord, and what an advan-
tage gained in our great effort to take the world for
God."

ON THE UPPER QUICKSAND.

I feel confident if Christian people could see what I
have seen here in two weeks, a new order of things

Sketches of the American' Highlanders. 77

would be set in motion to save these perishing people;
and tens of thousands of dollars instead of hundreds,
would be given to the cause ; and scores of faithful evan-
gelists would fill those mountains, instead of "here and
there a traveller," a lone missionary, trying to do the
work of a dozen men.

Let me lend your big congregation my eyes for twenty
minutes, and they will see what moved my heart, and I
hope will move theirs.

On Wednesday, the 9th of August, in company with
Rev. Henry E. Partridge, of Florida, and Mr. John J.
Barret (cornetist), of Louisville, and my little boy, Willie,
I started to the foreign field on the Upper Quicksand
River, in the Kentucky Cumberlands.

The grand canon of the Red River and the hundred
miles of forest-clad mountains was the first revelation
to the Floridian and Louisvillian. It was worth the
long journey from the sand and sunshine of the great
peninsula of the St. John's.

That night Brother Partridge preached an excellent
sermon to the united Methodist and Presbyterian prayer-
meeting congregations, at the Methodist Church in
Jackson.

Early on Thursday morning, we left Jackson on two
horses and a mule, and a wagon with a big tent and our
little baggage. I took the mule, as the city gentlemen
were not accustomed to his gaits.

It rained on us all morning, but shined on us the bal-
ance of the long way up the Quicksand. So, though
only one had an umbrella, we were dry enough at the
end of our journey. Willie rode the wagon with "Bunk"
Combs and the baggage. The road up the main Quick-

78 Galax Gatherers, and

sand being impassable for a wagon, we took the South
Fork, which was not quite so bad.

We passed the place where "bad Tom" Smith mur-
dered Dr. Rader. Near by, we met a gentleman who
told us his father had been trying to have him killed for
some years. We passed on.

Not far above the mouth of Dumb Betty (a mountain
stream) we passed an original still-house under a big
cliflf, where the natives manufacture trouble. We "passed
by on the other side," as the good Samaritan would
have done.

We left the South Fork and went up Russell's Fork,
and over the mountain to Winny Branch, and down to
the main Quicksand.

There had probably been a road that way once, but
there is no evidence of it left. The raging waters have
carried it all away. The mountain was so steep one
could scarcely walk down it ; the wagon, I suppose, just
slid down. None but a mountain man would have
dared to let her slide.

One o'clock brought us to Mr. John Wesley Mann's,
a whole-souled mountaineer, who has nothing too good
for a way-worn traveller.

Here our young missionary, Addison Talbott, has
been boarding this summer, and he was delighted to see
some one from the "settlements." Two bright girls soon
had us some dinner, and some fine apples, after which
we rode on to our destination, at the mouth of Spring
Fork, some thirty miles above the mouth of the crooked
Quicksand River.

Brother Partridge and 1 found a home with Jack
Howard, and Mr. Barret and Willie with Mr. Evans.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 79

Their unfurnished room had neither door nor window,
but was delightfully cool these summer days. Their
simple-hearted welcome made us feel at home, for there
never were more generous people. Children, dogs and
all, treated us like brothers.

That evening we began to fix the big tent. No place
could be found for it except in a thick grove of trees on
a bench of the mountain, where a battle had been fought
in the old war times. Here four brave Confederate
boys were sleeping their last sleep, by the gentle murmur
of the mountain stream and the warble of the wild birds.
Here we came to preach the Gospel of peace and love
to the children of sin and sorrow.

By Friday noon, with the cheerful help of Steve Car-
penter and the other "boys," we had the big tent up, and
seats for three hundred people. They were only six-
inch oak fencing plank, within six inches of the ground,
but the "Gospel is not bound" to circular pews and
cushioned seats. "God's first temple" is greater and
grander than all abbeys and cathedrals. It is wide as
the earth, and its dome is lit with the stars.

Here we preached ten days, and God and his untutored
children of the hills came to hear and to help, to bless
and be blessed.

Our tent was pitched across the river from the road,
but a temporary bridge and horses and bare feet brought
the crowds across. There is no church in this country
and never has been one.

The little church at Rousseau, twelve miles down the
river, organized four years ago, is the only one on the
seventy-five miles of the Quicksand River. Could you
believe it?

80 Galax Gatherers^ and

There is no regular preaching in this country, except
one "yearly" meeting, held at old Mrs. Davis'. Our
hostess told us she had heard only one man preach in
two years, and that at a funeral. Indeed funeral ser-
mons have the monopoly of all the preaching. They
are generally held in the fall, and at the graves. One
man's funeral has been preached annually for fourteen
years.

On the Sabbath when there were some three hundred
people present, I asked how many were members of any
church, and found only thirteen. Think of it! Thir-
teen out of three hundred, men and women: Anglo-
Saxons, Kentuckians ! and several of these came up from
the church at Rousseau, twelve miles below.

Day after day, they came in crowds, through heat
and dust, walking and riding; some bare-footed and
some bare-headed, with babies and dogs (until we drew
the line on dogs), and sat patiently from 9 to ii A. M.,
and from 2 to 4 P. M., on six-inch boards, within six
inches of the ground. If your pastor can't preach in
your nice church, send him to the Quicksand; it is no
trouble there. It just preaches itself. If men were
dumb, the "stones would cry out." God gave us good
weather after a big rain Sunday afternoon.

The young men who have been teaching Sabbath
schools along this river this summer did noble work in
visiting and singing. Mr. Barrett did invaluable ser-
vice with his cornet, which made up for our lack of
singers, and echoed along the mountain coves, in leading
God's praises.

There being no doctor in some twenty-five miles, I
visited some of the sick. One evening I went with Mr.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 81

Talbott to see old lady Davis, who has "spells," and Mr.
Ritchie, who lost an eye last week with acute inflam-
mation, and Mr. Russell, who had a turtle bone lodged
in his throat, and the little Trusty girl, who had fever,
but no doctor or medicine. Pity the poor ; but none so
poor as those without a Savior.

During the week I took occasion to explain the Mor-
mon abomination, as some of their agents, in sheep's
clothing, had gone through this country. I don't think
they will return.

To ascertain if the people took religious papers, I
asked for all who were subscribers, and there was not
one. Old Mr, Sheppard said he was sixty-seven years
old, and had never seen a religious paper. A number
subscribed for the "Soul Winner," which is published
for the poor, at twenty-five cents a year, and some could
not even pay that.

Through the second week, Brother Partridge preached
with great tenderness and earnestness, twice a day,
morning and evening, and I followed him, making four
sermons every day, not counting earnest exhortations
by Daniel Mcintosh, our mountain elder from Rous-
seau, and our Sunday school missionaries, Allen, Crock-
ett and Talbott.

For four to five solid hours, the patient people listened,
and learned a Gospel they said they never heard before.
On the last Saturday, I preached on Baptism, by request,
explaining it, but giving every person a choice of mode,
as they were raised in the immersionist belief.

The last two days, Saturday and Sunday, were the
great days of the feast. The big tent was crowded.
There was never better behavior nor better attention

82 Galax Gatherers, and

from 9 o'clock in the morning till 5 o'clock in the after-
noon, with a recess for lunch. Seventy-seven persons,
nearly all grown people, and many aged, confessed
Christ, and over seventy received baptism.

It was Pentecost on Quicksand. The shouting
drowned the weeping, and rolled across the river, and
up the mountains, to heaven.

Brother Partridge, twice a presiding elder, said he
never saw the like before, and shouted as if it were a
Methodist camp-meeting. He could not help it; I felt
like it myself. I shall never forget the scene. Some
of the faces of those poor women were transformed into
beauty by a touch of Divinity. They talked with God,
and their faces shone like Moses'. I have often wit-
nessed great demonstrations of God's power, but this
experience stands conspicuous above them all, like,
Pentecost of old. I thank God I was there.

At 5 o'clock, then the tenth day, we sent the reluctant
people home, but not until after they had determined to
build themselves a church, and selected three leading
men, John Brown, John Wesley Mann, and Buchanan
Bradley, with Stephen Carpenter and Jack Howard, as a
building committee. Mr. Howard generously gave them
a site for the church.

The next morning found us all going down the river
to the church at Rousseau, on our way home. The
Caney Mountain took up much of the twelve miles, and
was as bad as the ascent of Pike's Peak. Much of it
we had to walk. Mr. Barrett once lost his balance and
fell to the ground, much to the amusement of the boys
on the mules.

At 2 P. M, Brother Partridge and I preached to a

<
<

o

o

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 83

fine congregation in the pretty church at Rousseau, the
only one on the long Quicksand. It was a remarkable
congregation for 2 o'clock on Monday, The house was
about full, and three persons united with the church,
two of whom I baptized. This church is only four
years old, in a country where we had not a single mem-
ber, and is worth every dollar expended in this great
work of saving these perishing people.

After the preaching, another long ride over the moun-
tains brought us to Jackson, in the night. Willie and
Stuart Crockett had to walk it (fourteen miles), for
want of a mule.

Over one hundred families without a Bible were sup-
plied with one.

I could only wish God's faithful people could see the
sorrowful religious destitution of these poor, but worthy,
people, and then see the inexpressible joy of a new-
found hope of everlasting life through the Savior of the
poor. If they could, we would not have to beg for help
to send them the Gospel.

On the treatment of such depends the tremendous sen-
tence of the Judgment Day.

May God help us to help them.

ELKATAWA.

Will you please lend me your ears while I tell you of
a day at Elkatawa, a sample of many days and many
Elkatawas in the great Cumberlands?

I came here on Friday evening to visit our mission-
aries, Rev. Dr. Saunders and wife, and Mrs. Emma Gor-

84 Galax Gatherers, and

don. I found them in a "shanty" not near so good as
your stable, but serving as a vestibule to mansions in
heaven.

We preached Saturday morning in the school-house
(as there is no church here) to three little children. At
3 P. M. we had seventy-five people present.

Sunday the house and yard we'-e filled with four or
five hundred people, who stood or sat on the ground,
or rough planks, for four hours, to hear the Gospel.
Most of these people walked to church, and some of
them for miles.

We took up a collection to build a church here, and
got one dollar and sixty-seven cents. Maybe they had
no more, or didn't know how to give (probably the
former). We will try to help them build a church this
summer.

Fifty children joined the Sabbath school, and fifty
more are to come — many grown-up children.

Their zeal reminded us of the people of Gennesaret,
who were waiting for Jesus, and ran to meet him. Of
course He healed them all. He always does. I believe
He healed many souls here yesterday.

Their eagerness to hear was refreshing. They left
no room for the preacher ; and bright little girls crowded
the corner where Mrs. Gordon played the little organ,
to help her sing. They all said they could sing, and
tried to prove their faith by their works. The Gospel
songs have been a powerful evangel in the humble homes
of the mountaineers. Most of the children know a few
songs, taught by the missionaries.

It is a delight to feed those who are hungry, but piti-
ful to see so many without "the Bread of Life."

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 85

There is no preaching to this great crowd of people,
except an occasional sermon by a Mormon.

Our Field Secretary, Rev. Harvey Murdoch, has gone
on a long tour to our missionaries on the Quicksand.
We believe he is a "man sent from God" for this work.
Few realize how much it is needed.

It is over one hundred miles from here, by the two
rivers, to the Virginia border, — mountains all the way,
full of sinners, and only two preachers I know of, one a
Methodist and one a Northern Presbyterian.

We have a number of faithful missionaries scattered
through this region, but they are like light-houses on the
shores of a continent of darkness.

I have just returned from Texas and Oklahoma, with
their boundless contiguity of sunshine and wealth, and
cannot but note the contrast to this boundless contiguity
of shade and poverty, where the shadow of death covers
hundreds of thousands of souls. I am sure God's wise
and liberal children will come to their rescue, if they only
know the facts. Many are already helping, but we need
so many more consecrated workers, and so much more
consecrated money to sustain them. We could use
thousands where we get hundreds of dollars.

As to its use, we may quote that one of God's wisest
and best servants (a distinguished preacher known
throughout the whole country. North and South), says
of this work: "The Soul Winners' Society is doing the
most and best work, with the least money, of any mis-
sionary society on earth, so far as I know."

We are sending out every week more faithful labor-
ers into the great harvest-field, relying on God to sustain

86 Galax Gatherers, and

them. May He honor you with a part in this great
work, with your prayers and your gifts.

Many earnest workers have recently gone into the
Alleghanies of Tennessee and North CaroHna, and others
into the Kentucky Cumberlands, but the cry is still,
"Come over and help us." Especially is this cry most
pleading and piteous from the great Cumberlands. It
is a pitiful thing to hear a child crying for its dead
mother; how much more sorrowful is it to hear a lost
soul crying for its unknown Savior. It should melt a
heart of adamant.

FROM PANTHER RIDGE.

Some months ago two consecrated young people from
Canada, who had given their lives and labors to their
Master, went as missionaries to the darkest corner of the
desolate mountains.

They asked only a scant living, which was all the
Society of Soul Winners could promise them, under
whose auspices they went to carry the "glad tidings."

They were utter strangers to the country and people,
but they knew the Gospel, and God's love and power.
They went twenty miles beyond a town or a doctor or
a church or a preacher. Their hired home is a little
log-cabin, of one room, without a window or a carpet,
or furniture, or convenience of any kind, and the door
and roof only names.

By dint of hard work they have patched it up to keep
from freezing this winter. In an open log-house they
have started a Sunday school, and have enrolled a hun-

Sketches of the American' Highlandees. 87

dred mountain children, all of whom are taught by the
faithful missionary and his wife; forty in one class and
sixty in the other; no other help in reach.

The poor people gave them a cordial welcome, — all
they had to give, — and are beginning to learn a better
"way"' than they have ever known before.

The following letter from the young wife gives some
idea of the country, its sin and sorrow, its people, and
their destitutions, and the privations and hardships of
such a life. And more, it gives an idea of the power
of the Gospel to take a lovely, educated young woman
from a happy home and kind friends and bury her in a
living tomb among wild, strange people in a desolate
land.

And even more yet, we see her do it cheerfully, and
happily, and without a murmur or complaint. Pandita
Ramabai, noble as she is, made no such sacrifices for
her poor, perishing countrymen.

That this devoted Christian woman and her husband
will succeed, goes without saying. Heaven and earth
will pass away, but the promise of their glorious reward
will never pass. Their crowns in heaven will outshine
all the tiaras that ever glittered on the brows of kings
and queens on earth.

Are you a partner of their labors? Will you be a
partner of their reward?

The letter following was written to a lady friend, who
kindly permits us to use it in stimulating others to like
service, and sustaining those who have gone to publish
salvation to our perishing countrymen :

88 Galax Gatherees, and

"My Dear Sister: "Panther Ridge.

"I have been delayed in answering your letter, and I
hope you will pardon me. You asked for a description
of our field here. I hardly know what to write; you
have heard so many things, and still there is so much
more that cannot be expressed by pen and paper; the
real needs of the people; the lack of knowledge and
education, and, above all, the lack of Christ in the hearts
and lives of these people.

"Sometimes we almost stand in awe as we face this
great work, not only in our vicinity, but in the regions
about us. No Bible being taught; no Sunday school
for children, and nothing that would lift the thoughts
from daily toil and care and sin and sorrow, to a brighter
and more hopeful landscape even, — that time when God's
people will see His face and shall be with Him forever.
They have no such hope. They do not know how to
pray. I have asked nearly all of my fifty children in my
Sunday school class if they pray, and not one of them
had ever been taught to pray.

"God's name is used only in blasphemy, not as the
One who is Love. But I hope and trust that into these
dark hearts will come the assurance of that love, and
their hearts will be changed, and the spirit of love will
permeate them till they, too, will seek to tell the 'old,
old story.'

"The children are learning very fast; they are bright
as can be, and when they are once interested, they can
be relied upon.

"I have been taking up a course of the life of Christ.
I found it would not do to follow the International Les-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 89

sons before they knew of Jesus Christ, of His life, death
and resurrection.

"Our school-house, which has been in very poor con-
dition, and even yet is not fitted up warm enough for
winter, will, I trust, soon be completed. I have had the
children come here to our house when it was too cold
in the school-house.

"Our house is very small, and the accommodations
for Sunday school limited; but the children are glad to
come, and it makes my heart rejoice to see their bright
little faces, and to hear them sing so heartily the beau-
tiful hymns.

"I think I'll describe our trip to Peasticks last Sun-
day, and that will give you a little idea of the country,
and the people's needs.

"After our morning service here, we got a lunch and
started off horseback. I rode our horse, while Mr,
Smith rode a borowed one. We could not take the
direct road to Peasticks, as they had been cutting timber,
and the road was blocked.

"It was all a new experience to me. I had travelled
down and up the creeks, but had never crossed a moun-
tain. For awhile we took the bed of the creek, some-
times splashing through the water, then over ledges of
rocks, up and down continually; then under trees that
had fallen across the creek, and we would be compelled
to bow low, and even then we would have our backs
rubbed by the trees. But at last we came to the foot
of the mountain. I said, 'Surely we don't ride up here.'
The path looked straight up, up, up; but I was told to
hang to the horse's mane, and up we started. That was
not the worst. It was when wc got to the other side

90 Galax Gatherers, and

that I positively refused to ride any more, so I got down
and led my horse. I thought I should slide over his
head, and if the horse should slip, I don't know where
we would have been. At last, we reached Peasticks,
after two hours and a half of hard riding, — only seven
miles.

"At the school-house we did not find any one, so
rode on to the store. There we found the devil had got
there before us. A barrel of whiskey had been gotten
in, the night before, and scores of men, women and
children were there drinking and carousing.

"I don't know when my heart felt so sick at the sight
of young girls, standing around and talking with the
men. Many of them had powdered their faces and put
on their finery, to make themselves look as attractive as
possible. It is awful. What are the laws of the land?
Such lawlessness and debauchery is a disgrace to a
country. May God help these poor people.

"Mr. Smith went among them and invited them to
come up to the school-house, and we went back. We
had about forty-five to come in, and the Word of God
was preached from the text: 'Come, for all things are
now ready.' It is a comfort to know that results do
not rest with us. It is our duty to preach the Word and
to pray, but God gives the increase. I pray that even
on Peasticks there will be precious souls won for the
Master. They have no regular work there, only an
occasional service. The children have nothing done
for them.

"There are other places where we expect to go when-
ever we can, but the roads are so bad we cannot get
about far in these short days.

X

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a

EH

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Sketches of the American Highlanders. 91

"It was dark before we got home, and the road is dan-
gerous. The work is needy, and I beHeve the harvest is
ripe. I don't think all will be converted, but the Lord
has His own here in the mountains, and it is our busi-
ness to preach 'Whosoever will,' and leave the rest with
God.

"Since starting to write, it has begun raining, and I
can scarcely find a dry spot to sit. These mountain
homes are not very comfortable ; even with all the im-
provements we have made on this old house, it would
not be counted fit to live in, if it were in another part of
the country. The poor mountain people don't know
what comfort is.

*'I hope, if it will please the Lord for us to remain
here many years, that we may have a little home where
we can be a little more comfortable.

"The people around us here are anxious to learn to
read, and have asked me to teach school this winter. I
may do so some days out of the week, but with house-
keeping and visiting, my time is fully occupied.

"I know that you will remember us in your prayers,
and, above all, pray that a spirit of deep conviction of
sin may come upon these people, and they will cry out,
'What must I do to be saved'?

"EosE S."

THE HOUSE THAT GOD BUILT.

(by one who saw it.)

Far away in the wildest Cumberland Mountains is a
little hamlet of Highlanders, twenty-five miles from a
railroad, or any other kind ; and some twenty miles from

92 Galax Gatherers, and

any town, far beyond all churches, schools, doctors and
preachers. Here "the forgotten people" had lived and
labored and died for a hundred years. God alone knew
and loved them. So He sent one of His aged servants
and his wife and youngest daughter to carry them "the
Glad Tidings of Salvation." Twenty-five miles across
the rugged mountains and rivers they rode on horse-
back, and pitched a tent in a narrow valley by a beauti-
ful river. This was the first church in all that country.
The aged doctor preached, and his loving daughter
taught the wondering Highlanders every day the lessons
of heavenly wisdom. They filled the tent with their
presence, and the dells with their praises. So happy
and grateful were they that they determined to have a
better house. So, with strong arms and loving hearts,
they built a beautiful church on Laurel Point, a spur of
the mountain, and called it "Louise Chapel," in honor
of their noble teacher. Miss Louise Saunders.

Here her venerable father, Rev. Dr. Miles Saunders
(for thirty-seven years the pastor of the Presbyterian
Church at Springfield, Kentucky,) preached the gospel
to increasing crowds of his Highland brethren. Few
could preach as well, and fewer preach it under such
difficulties and self-denial. The work grew beyond their
strength, so God sent a noble Gordon woman to help,
and then brought from a New York City church a strong
young preacher, a Mississippian, and a graduate of
Princeton, to help carry the burden and share the re-
ward.

God gave him the heart and hand of this noble young
woman, and Miss Louise Saunders became Mrs. Harvey
S. Murdoch. Then, with united hearts and hands, they

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 93

went to work to build a school for the hundreds of High-
land lads and lassies around them. They found willing
hands to help them, and, though the people were poor
in money, they were rich in forests. So the Highlanders
gave logs and lumber and labor, and built the "Log Col-
lege" on a mountain brow, facing Louise Chapel, with a
beautiful campus between. Soon it was full, and no
place to take others who wanted to come; so a nice
girls' dormitory and a dwelling for teachers were built.
All these were built of logs, sawed and squared and set
with plummet and compass, the most beautiful houses
of their kind in the State, and elegantly furnished with
two hundred bright lads and lassies, many of them pre-
paring to teach and preach the Gospel, we hope. Every-
thing is crowded, college, dormitories and refectory, and
many more to follow, when there is room. Six trained
teachers are employed, and the Bible is the foremost
text-book, and God's glory the chief object.

When Dr. Saunders and his wife and daughter eur
tered this great mountain field, eight years ago, there
was not a single church, or school, where a mountain
boy could get an education. Now there are six nice
churches and three homes for the missionaries, with
three educated teachers and preachers ; the Log College,
with three other schools, taught by competent teachers,
and over five hundred professors of faith in Christ. "Be-
hold what God hath wrought." And for all this work
not a single collection has been taken in any church.
God built these houses by the hands of His wise and
consecrated children all over the land.

This is a part of the work of the Society of Soul Win-
ners. Its missions embrace the mountains of Kentucky,

94 Galax Gatherers, and

Tennessee, North Carolina and Virginia. It simply pays
the board of its faithful teachers and preachers. God
will provide their reward when He divides the "King-
doms and Crowns" in "that Day." And not for these
only, but for all those whose prayers and alms have
helped in His work among our poor Highland neigh-
bors. Have you a part in this glorious work ?

THE CHURCH ON THE GRAPE VINE.

Far up in the Kentucky Mountains, thirty miles by
the river from Jackson, and the railroad, is a glassy
stream known as the Grape Vine. It is out of the way
to any other place, and the road to it is a bridle-path
over the mountains.

For fifty miles along this branch of the Kentucky
River there was no church. Some five summers ago I
visited this destitute region, and preached in a little
school-house on the banks of the river, amid the soli-
tude of a primeval forest. The untutored children of
the hills filled the little house, and God came down and
saved some scores of precious souls.

Since then, devoted men have gone to them with the
glad tidings of salvation. Mr. Wallin, Mr. Farnsworth,
Dr. Witherspoon, Dr. Saunders, Mr. Fincher, and others,
have labored faithfully at different times among them.
Members were added, a church organized, and a house
of worship built and made ready for dedication.

On Thursday, July 6th, with Rev. James A. Bryan, of
Birmingham, Alabama, and Samuel M. Johnson, Jr., of
New York, I started to the Grape Vine. These brethren

Sketches of the American" Highlanders. 95

had kindly consented to help in our evangelistic work.
It was their first adventure in the mountains. A ride
of one hundred miles brought us to Jackson, the ter-
minus of the mountain railroad. The scenery up the
Red River canon and the Kentucky River surpassed any
they had ever seen. On our way we passed William
Steinert, one of our missionaries at Oak Dale, and found
two more faithful men at Jackson. Rev. Charles A.
I.ogan had just been installed pastor of our church here.
A most happy selection. His church had been burned
on Wednesday night, but some insurance will help them
build a better house, we hope.

Early Friday morning we three started for the Grape
Vine, twenty-three miles over the mountains. Two little
mules (of Dr. Saunders') furnished us transportation for
ourselves and baggage, with one horse part of the way
(when we did not walk). The city gentlemen showed
their zeal by "patient endurance" of many hardships, and
"rejoiced in tribulations," even beyond our hopes. They
learned many things not taught in Birmingham or New
York City, some valuable lessons in life's journey : how
big the world is ; how other people live ; how poor some
are, and how destitute of the Gospel.

In the long stretch of twenty-three mountain miles,
we saw no church, and only one man trying to show
them the better way, "Uncle Ben" Bigstafif, the faithful
evangelist, at the mouth of Lost Creek, on the Trouble-
some. Here is a stream seventy-five miles long, and
only one church on it. No comment necessary.

From there to the Grape Vine we had a rough ride
(and walk), of thirteen miles across two mountains. On
top of Leatherwood Mountain, the brethren sang, "Let

96 Galax Gatherers, and

the blessed sunshine in," where the dark valleys only
symbolized the deep spiritual darkness of the inhabi-
tants. Brother Bryan remarked that he learned more
of God and men in two days here than in two weeks at
the Northfield School.

On the way we met an old man, walking. When he
recognized me, he gave me his right hand (had before
given his left), and said : "I have thanked God a thou-
sand times for the Testament you gave me years ago on
the Troublesome. I read it all the time." We thanked
God for old Henry Mcintosh and his Testament.

Night and the rain caught us before we reached the
Grape Vine, and we found a resting place in three strange
homes. Brother Johnson got lost before he found his
place.

On Saturday morning we went around and brought a
little congregation of fifteen to church, because there was
no appointment for that day. Thanks to the labors of
Mr. Fincher, Mr. Deggendorf, Edward and Tom. Mose-
ley and Dwight Witherspoon, Jr., and native helpers,
we found a pretty little white church on a high, grassy
hill, surrounded by beautiful forest-clad mountains, over-
looking the river and Grape Vine stream. I do not
think I ever saw a finer location for a church. It is
certainly "beautiful for situation," the joy of the whole
valley. On Sunday it was crowded to overflowing. The
patient people came early, and Brother Bryan began to
preach at 9 A. M. We all preached by turns, and the
services continued until 5 P. M., with a recess for din-
ner. This is their custom up here. At 11 A. M. we
dedicated the church to the service of God. Four grown

Sketches op the American Highlanders. 97

persons united with the church, three of them received
baptism, — one a leading citizen, and three young ladies.
Dr. Miles Saunders, of Crockettsville, was too unwell
to be present, nmch to our regret. Brother Barkley,
our synodical colporteur, and Jake Field, elder at Big
Creek, came sixteen miles to the services. God gave us
fine weather during this week, and we all preached every
day, morning and afternoon, beginning at 9 A. M. and
closing about 5 P. M, During the week, forty-four per-
sons confessed Christ, forty-two of them adults, — one
old man seventy-three years old. Forty-three united
with the church on profession, and one by letter, and
there was great rejoicing (and some shouting) on Grape
Vine. Most of the people walked to church, and a good
many carried their little children. One mother brought
a little fellow, only sixteen days old, every day.

Brother Mitchell, pastor at Hazard, came down on
Monday and was with us at the burial of Mrs. Major
John Eversole, one of the oldest inhabitants. The burial
(as usual) was on the summit of a mountain peak, with
a grand view of the river and country for miles. Her
granddaughter, a fine girl, has been conducting the Sab-
bath school and is not afraid to walk three mountain
miles to do it.

Thursday night I went three miles down the river to
Mrs. Dr. Wilson's, over a way where one needed wings.
The river had washed the road away and hardly left a
dangerous bridle path. Yet these earnest people travel
such a way to hear the Gospel.

I found Mrs. Wilson living at the home of James Moore
(a Methodist preacher), who had killed his brother there,
and in sight of the place where Jacob Neece had killed

98 Galax Gatherers^ and

the United States marshal, William Byrd. Two widowed
women, alone, live on this side of the river, with only-
mountains in sight, and away from the road and world.
I have never seen a more isolated or lonely place. But
God was there to protect and comfort his secluded
children.

On Friday afternoon Brother Bryan and I started for
Crockettsville, in Breathitt County, thirteen miles away,
to meet an appointment with Dr. Saunders. Brother
Johnson remained to preach on the Sabbath, when eight
more confessed Christ, making fifty-two received this
week.

We found the way to Crockettsville about as good (or
bad) as all the roads. They all run up or down streams,
along narrow valleys, over rough mountains and across
rivers.

We crossed the middle fork of the Kentucky River at
Gross' Store, came near getting lost on Squabble Creek,
and reached Callahan's about dark. (This reminds me
in time to give you a rest and take one myself.) At
some other time I may tell you about the work at Crock-
ettsville, where one year ago there was not a single
church or Presbyterian, and now a beautiful new church,
built by the mountain people, and one hundred and forty
members.

PREACHING THE GOSPEL TO THE POOR.

When Brother Bryan and I came in sight of our last
summer's camp, we found a pretty white church stand-
ing near the spot where the big tent stood last July. We

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 99

could hardly believe it, but it was there, with the Sun,
Moon and Stars painted over the door; a large, nice
frame church building, the first in this country, and the
only one built entirely by the inhabitants.

We hoped to rest on Saturday, but Dr. Saunders
worked us from 9 A. M. to 4 P. M., except when he
was working his troops in battalion drill. Acting on
the suggestion to be "all things to all men," and know-
ing the martial spirit of his people, he had organized a
company of fifty boys and girls, uniformed them in red
caps, etc., and trained them in the manual of arms (and
legs) and the Creed and Catechism.

I need not say it was well done. They marched and
counter-marched up and down the creek, and into the
church (his objective point), and sang "When the Roll
is Called Up Yonder," so as to stir the spirit of an old
soldier,

I was glad he did not ask me to show them how to
repeat the Creed and Catechism. They knew it per-
fectly, without any assistance. It was a most interesting
and instructive exercise. It captures the wild boys and
timid girls, and puts them in the Sabbath school, and
puts God's truth in their hearts.

The girls are taught to cut and make garments, to
sing and read ; and the best singing done in our meeting
was done by this class. All honor to Mrs. Saunders and
Mrs. Gordon, the faithful teachers.

Sunday was the "great day of the feast." People
came on foot and horse and mule-back, and in wagons,
for miles (some twenty miles), and filled the church and
porch and outdoors.

Services began at 9 A. M.; at 11 we dedicated the

100 Galax Gatherers, and

new and beautiful church and furnishings to the wor-
ship of God, who built the miountains and loves their
simple-hearted children. The church is handsomely
papered and painted, with nice pews, carpet and organ,
good enough for anybody.

The handsome pulpit Bible was the gift of Mrs. Mc-
Campbell, of Versailles, and the elegant silver Com-
munion service the gift of Mrs. Dr. J. N. Saunders,
whose beloved husband was so long an honor to his
church and State.

Twelve persons united with the church on profession
to-day, amid great rejoicing. At 5 P. M. we sent the
reluctant people home.

This evening Brother Bryan received a telegram from
Birmingham, Alabama, summoning him home to his sick
wife, and he started at once to Jackson, twenty-one miles
on horseback, through a big rain. We were greatly
grieved to see him go, but could not object. His daily
"walk and conversation" is a better sermon than we can
preach, and his public ministry in the pulpit won all
hearts. God will reward him for his faithful, self-deny-
ing service. He came all the way from his home in Bir-
mingham to help us in this great work. It was not new
to him, for he was a Soul Winner by nature and grace,
both.

Brother Johnson came over from Grape Vine Monday
(with Jack Gambill, and one mule), and rendered in-
valuable service during the week.

In spite of the busy season, and an epidemic of deadly
dysentery among the people, the congregations increased
daily, until Thursday, when we were crowded out again.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 101

I suppose there were four or five hundred present, the
whole day.

During the week Dr. Saunders conducted five fune-
rals, at the church, of death from bloody flux. Not the
least of the blessings of the Gospel to these poor people
is the church for their dead, and a true preacher to point
them from suffering and death to life and joy in heaven.

The Doctor's little wagon brought their dead to the
church, and bore them away to humble graves am'ong
their solemn mountains.

At every service there were confessions of Christ, and
on Thursday morning, Dr. Saunders baptized thirty-
four persons, and others in the afternoon. Altogether,
there were forty-five additions to the church this week,
giving this church 175 members. It was organized on
July 30, 1898, with only one person who had been a
Presbyterian.

Truly God hath done great things for them and us,
whereof we are glad and grateful. Let those whose
generous help has made possible these blessed results
thank God and rejoice in the glorious privilege. May
God multiply their numbers and their rewards.

As is his custom, "the Old Serpent" came up "with
the sons of God," the last day, in the shape of a big
rattlesnake, and threatened to draw some away, but a
well-directed blow by the seed of a woman bruised his
head beyond recognition or recovery.

Want of time and strength compelled me to close my
service on Thursday evening.

Two Sabbaths from my own church admonished me
of my duty to those generous people, so at 5 A. M.,
Friday morning, T started to the railroad at Elkatawa,

102 GIalax Gatherers, and

eighteen miles away. I found the road down the river
and over the mountain somewhat better than last sum-
mer, and my little riding mule walked and trotted it,
with a little persuasion, by lo A. M.

COMING TO CHRIST BAREFOOTED.

How true that "one-half of the world does not know
how the other half lives," even though that other half
be their neighbors.

The accompanying picture will serve to illustrate this
fact. This is a family of Americans, — pure, old Anglo-
Saxon blood, unmixed for hundreds of years, — true, hon-
est, industrious, brave people.

That they are poor is the fault of their environments ;
they are the inhabitants of the rugged Cumberland
Mountains, where the land is scarce and unproductive,
and money scarcer.

On a preaching tour through that country, I pitched
my tent on a bench of a mountain, for want of a church
or a better place. There was no church in miles, and
never had been one.

The people came for miles, walking, and riding on
horses and mules, over mountains and along rivers.
They came early, as soon as they got their breakfast,
and stayed until late in the afternoon. They sat upon
rough boards, rocks and rails, and listened to the Gospel,
which was a new story to them. Most of them went
without dinner. For days together they listened eagerly
to the Gospel for four or five hours a day.

On going to the big tent, one day, a man came to me,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 103

and, taking me to one side, told me he had no shoes,
and asked me if he could join the church bare-footed. I
assured him he could do so, gladly. God cared nothing for
shoes. He could go to heaven barefooted, though he
might not go to Congress. He was delighted. His
want oi shoes was not due to laziness. He was the
father of a large family in a poor country, and it was
all he could do to keep the wolf from the door, by hard
work. He wanted to be a Christian, and if he waited
until he was able to buy shoes, the opportunity to join
the church would be gone; so he came to request this
privilege, as he was barefooted. After the sermon that
day, I gave an opportunity to any who were ready to
accept Christ as their Savior, to make a public confes-
sion of their faith, and he was the first one to come.

There was a large congregation of his neighbors pres-
ent, many of them as poor as he was. They esteemed
him as an honest, true man, and were glad he had the
courage and grace to come, and many came with him.
His own wife came, with a babe in her arms, to accept
the same Savior, with her husband.

There was rejoicing that day, not only under the
shadow of the tall Cumberlands, but in the sunlight of
heaven, on the mount of God. Seventy-seven persons,
almost all grown, publicly confessed their Savior, and
seventy of them received baptism.

There is not a church in that country yet. Few of
the people ever saw one; but your faithful missionaries
are now teaching these long-neglected people how to be
saved and live for the glory of God.

These, and fifty other missionaries, are supported by
the America Inland Mission, organized to send the Gos-

104 Galax Gatherers^ and

pel to the three millions of destitute people of our own
country, who live in the great ranges of the Cumber-
land and Allegheny Mountains.

God has greatly blessed this work, which is supported
by the voluntary gifts of his generous children of every
branch of the church, all over the world.

We ask your prayers and help.

A VISIT TO CATALOOCHEE.

IN THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS.

If you are not a mountain-climber you had better not
undertake this trip. I am not sure I would have done
it if I had known what I know now. God wisely con-
ceals the future from us.

Our faithful missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Barrows and
Mr. Burton, had lived and worked there a long time,
alone, and I thought it was little as I could do to go to
see them. So, past the Cumberlands and Knoxville,
Morristown and the French Broad, we went to Newport,
on the beautiful Pigeon River, flowing out of the North
Carolina Alleghanies. There we walked a mile to board
a little car half full of flour, etc., on the new railroad
up the river, for Cataloochee, in the Great Smoky Moun-
tains. At Hartford, a little station, we met Mr. Bar-
rows and Mr. Burton, who came to escort us to their
little eyrie in the mountains. It was well they did, for
though I have been climbing the Cumberlands since a
boy, and the Alleghanies and Rockies, I do not think I
could ever have found that home in the Great Smokies.

Sketches of the Americaist Highlanders. 105

We left the cars where there was no road, and walked
half a mile to the iron railroad bridge over the rapid
river, which was too dangerous to cross in a boat. Mr.
Barrows showed me where he and his family came near
being drowned in attempting to cross. Over rocks and
stumps and trees, where there was not even a path, we
made our way down to the mouth of the gorge in the
mountain. Here we met little Milburn Brown, with
one of the only three horses in the neighborhood, for
me to ride.

The way we went was up a rushing, roaring stream,
which came down five hundred feet in a half mile, like
a dozen cataracts of Lodore. It was magnificent, but it
was not a road; but it was worth a trip to one who
never saw nature in her wildest mood, and most magni-
ficent dress. In that deep mountain gorge I found the
most magnificent hemlocks I had ever seen — big and tall
as the cedars of Lebanon ; giants of the primeval forest.
Among these I found a rare tree of most beautiful white
and pink bell-shaped flowers, and called by the natives
the Tizwood. I had never seen it before. It blooms
alongside the dogwood, but had a more beautiful flower.

A mile up this cataract brought us to the little mission-
house of Mr, Barrows. It was perched in a cleft of the
mountain, under the shadow of Old Smoky, which reared
its white head four thousand feet above, and marked the
boundary between Tennessee and North Carolina. Mrs.
Barrows and three little children (Lavanche and her
little brother, and a borrowed one) gave me a hearty
welcome to the humble home — where contented poverty
lived happily with Jesus. It was a lovely Christian
home and well served as a vestibule to the golden pal-

106 Galax Gatherers^ and

aces beyond the tall summit of Old Smoky. Mr. Bar-
rows (for want of any place to live) had built his own
little house, and propped it up with long poles to keep
the big storms from moving it down on the river below.
It was not pretty or warm, but better than the Master
had. (It will be warmer next winter.) One little stove
did the cooking and washing and ironing, and warming
the house, when it could. And in this humble home, in
the roughest, poorest country I ever saw, I found an
educated, cultivated, gentle Christian woman, as happy
as she could be, in her labors of love among these poor,
but grateful, children of the great mountains. It was
a privilege to be there. It was in the suburbs of heaven,
more than two thousand feet above the troubles of the
world below.

That Monday night we all walked half a mile to a little
school-house, where I preached to a house nearly full of
people, all of whom had walked, for want of a better
way. I couldn't see where they came from, but the
mountains seemed to open, and they came out of vales,
and dells, and nooks, all around. How they lived I do
not know, but God, who feeds the birds, will not let His
children starve, though I know some of them get hungry.

It rained that night, or, rather, poured down, and all
the next day, but we were five hundred feet above the
roaring river, and felt safe, and sorry it rained. But the
good people waded through mud and water to the little
school-house at 9 o'clock A. M. (meeting takes up here
at 9 o'clock), and it was about full of poor, wet men,
women and children, without a single umbrella or over-
shoe. I did my best, but couldn't preach well enough
for such people. Jesus only could do that.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 107

But I must get along to Cataloochee, Brother Bur-
ton's mission-field in North Carolina. He was just re-
covering from a spell of sickness and was not able to go
with us, so Brother Barrows, on a little piece of a mule,
and I on the only horse I saw, waded through the rain
and mud over the mountains and down the valleys to
Cataloochee, on Big Creek, in North Carolina. Here we
found some three hundred people, in a large commissary
store, where I preached, from a chair, while they all
stood up. The men were off work on account of the
rain.

Mr. Burton is doing a good work here, under many
disadvantages, but the management promises to build a
school-house soon, which will serve for a church also.
The Cherokee Indians, who live just up the river have
a good school and church, provided by the government,
so that the red children are better educated than their
poor white neighbors. On our way back, I saw the only
church in the country — a log house, but the roof was
off, the floor gone, and the benches piled up in the cor-
ner, all for want of religion. It does not always operate
that way. It did here, and in Jeremjah's time.

Night found us all back in the school-house, which
was again full of wet people who walked through the
rain in the dark, without a lantern or an umbrella It
will take heaven to "even up" things for such people.
This was my last service here, and many came forward
to express their desire for salvation and faith in Christ.
Mr. and Mrs. Barrows have been prayerfully and faith-
fully sowing the good seed in this wild and sterile soil,
and God will "give the increase."

The want of good schools here moved them to under-

108 Galax Gatherers, and

take to build the "Seminary of the Great Smokies,"
where these scores of bright mountain boys and girls
can enjoy the advantages of other more favored people.
I was glad to find the foundation laid, and the frame up
for a building of six rooms, the first school of its kind
in all this wild region. They need help to complete it.
The poor people, with little else to give, have contrib-
uted some lumber, and much labor, in digging out a
foundation in six feet of rock in the mountain-side. I
doubt if there is a "higher" school anywhere, and the
children will have to climb like squirrels to reach their
Alma Mater on that mountain brow. But it was the
best and only place to build it, for land is scarce in the
Great Smokies, and it all stands on its edge. The flood
continued all night, and if these mountains had not been
built of rock, they would have been washed away.

An engagement compelled me to leave the next morn-
ing, and I was sorry I could not stay longer to help those
faithful missionaries. They deserve more than they will
ever receive this side of heaven, but they are content "to
labor and to wait."

The little Brown boy and "Joe" brought me down to
the railroad and river another way, not quite so bad as I
went up. The flood of rain had converted the river into
a raging torrent, rushing down from the North Caro-
lina mountains. It had overwhelmed the track in some
places, and undermined it in others, so that it took all
hands from 8 A. M. to 12 M. to get back to Newport
without getting drowned. In the whole twenty miles,
the roaring, rushing river tore down the narrow defile
between the mountains of rock, like the rapids of
Niagara. Night brought me to the hills of the Watauga,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 109

and to the mission of our faithful evanghsts, the Par-
melees. I found them in a little log-cabin, at the head
of a hollow, just wide enough for a horse to get through.
They were busy and happy teaching twenty-five bright
children of the hills every day in their little cabins, and
seventy-five people every Wednesday night, and one
hundred and fifty every Sunday, in an old deserted Dun-
kard meeting-house, half a mile below.

This is the work the Society of Soul Winners is doing
in fifty missions, scattered over the mountains of Ken-
tucky, Tennessee and North Carolina, beyond all others.
It is for the regeneration of a race of Highlanders, long
neglected, and worthy of a better fate.

IN THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS.

i
After a long time and over a long road, I made my
third visit to the Great Smoky Mountains, which divide
Tennessee from North Carolina. The evening of the
second day I reached Brown's, a little station on thei
rapid Pigeon River, some twenty miles from Newport,
Tennessee. Clever Mr. Messer met me with the only
horse in the neighborhood, and I climbed five hundred
feet, in two miles, up to the Seminary of the Great
Smokies, where I found Miss Margaret Gordon and her
mother. They have charge of this mission, and are
universally beloved, for their own, and their work's sake.
There was no appointment for preaching, until nearly
dark, but a good congregation nearly filled the chapel.
Where they came from, one could only guess, for few
houses were visible in these wild, steep mountains; and

110 Galax Gatherers, and

it was equally hard to see how these people make a liv-
ing, in the poorest country I have ever seen. Miss
Gordon has a most interesting school, and the only one
I ever remember with every pupil present. I preached
three times the next day to most earnest congregations,
every one of whom walked, and a number made confes-
sion of Christ. The post-office at the Seminary is kept
by one of the grown pupils, who told me his salary was
four dollars a month, which nearly paid his board. A
tall Highlander carried the mail, on his shoulder, to the
railroad, which consisted of two letters and three postals
that day. H,e carries it three times a week. This Semi-
nary, built by Mr. Barrows, is a monument to the energy
and consecrated zeal of a noble man and his wife. It is
a large, substantial building, five hundred feet above the
river, and four thousand five hundred feet below the top
of the White Rock Mountain, which divides the two
States. Miss Gordon and her mother occupy the upper
rooms of the Seminary, which are level with the moun-
tain behind it. Rev. Mr. Gordon and Mr. E. M. Mon-
roe, Jr., have visited and preached there during the sum-
mer. It is a promising and successful mission. Want
of time compelled me to leave early on Thursday morn-
ing for the Ebenezer Mission, seven miles back of Del
Rio, on the French-Broad River. From the Seminary,
we had to descend to the river, down a roaring cataract,
which an enterprising Highlander had harnessed to a
little mill, where his few neighbors could get their grind-
ing done. My guide informed me the mill cost ten dol-
lars. Money is scarcer in these rugged mountains than
the courage and industry that make a living for the
hardy people. At Newport I had a pleasant hour with

Sketches of the American Highlanders. Ill

Brother Black, who speaks John Knox's brogue and
orthodoxy, among an appreciative people. At Del Rio
I met Miss Leona Blake, of South Carolina, on her way
to the mission. ]\Ir. Munroe met us at Del Rio with a
horse and mule to carry us seven miles up the Big Creek
and across the mountain to the Ebenezer Home. We
reached there at dark, after Miss Blake's horse had
thrown her over his head, and then she traded him for
the mule, after vv'hich we went safely. We found this
mission, founded by two devoted Moravians, now in
China, in a flourishing condition and hopeful of greater
things. It is admirably managed by Miss Margaret
Allison, of North Carolina, ably assisted by Mr. Mar-
shall Munroe, Jr., of Texas, and Miss Annie Laurie Wil-
liams, of South Carolina. With commendable fore-
thought, they had announced preaching that night and
every day over the Sabbath. Rev. James B. Converse,
of Morristown, who arrived to-day, on his regular visit
to the mission, preached a most instructive sermon the
first night. On Saturday, Sunday and Monday we had
preaching twice daily to fine congregations. At night
the chapel was crowded, and on Sabbath morning the
Sunday school filled the chapel, dining-room and porch.
I do not know where I ever saw a finer lot of Highland
lads and lassies. It would have done Dr. Phillips' heart
good to have been there. We were sorry he was not.
During the services the profoundest attention was given,
and more than a score of persons professed faith in the
Savior. Miss Williams' school, also, was nearly unani-
mous in accepting Christ. It was a season long to be
remembered by the people in these wild, poor mountains,
so far from the blessings others enjoy, and which some

112 Galax Gatherers, and

do not appreciate. The follies of fashion, and the dissi-
pations of society have never invaded those quiet ham-
lets in the Great Smokies. I did not see a single big hat
or a fashionable dress. Mr. Munroe is busy pushing
the chapel to completion. It is a large substantial build-
ing for school and church, with rooms above for teach-
ers and pupils. It has long been needed. The poor
Highlanders take great pride in it, and freely give their
labor, having little less to give. Other engagements
compelled me to leave early Tuesday morning, and Mr.
Richard James brought me a mule to ride back to Del
Rio, nine miles, by his home on the Muddy Fork of Big
Creek. Here I found the coziest cottage and prettiest
cove I have ever yet seen in the Great Smokies. Mr.
James generously offered to give fifteen acres of land,
and other help from the neighbors, if we would give
them better advantages of education and religion. We
visited the school-house over the mountain, and found
it filled with bright children, taught by a nice young
lady, in a poor, open cabin, which could not be warmed.
The school is to last four months, if Jack Frost does not
close them out sooner, which he probably will. How
can these Highland children ever get a chance to be
educated under such circumstances? And they are the
brightest children of the purest stock, and lots of them.
On the way to Del Rio, we called at a little house by
the road-side and the happy mother brought out her
three boys, all of the same age (four years), named
"Bob," "Taylor," "Ed" Carmack and John Cox (two
governors and a senator of Tennessee). No wonder Dr.
Dabney said "these Highlands are the nursery and train-
ing ground of our country." No wonder their ancestors

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Sketches of the American Highlanders. 113

won the battles of King's Mountain and New Orleans.
We need these Highlanders to leaven the great influx
of foreigners, seven millions of whom entered our coun-
try in the last ten years. That night found me at Mor-
ristown, where I stayed with Dr. McConnell, at Brother
Converse's hospitable home, after inspecting the Doctor's
splendid new church, which appeared magnificent, when
I remembered the poor cabins of the Great Smokies.
Seven o'clock the next morning I took the train to Wa-
tauga Hills, where I met Rev. R. F. King, the faithful
bishop of the "Forks," where he has built a nice church
on the spot where I preached some years ago to the
people seated on the ground. Here I also met the
veterans of our society, Mr. and Mrs. Parmelee, who,
ten years before, to the day, entered the Soul Winners'
work in "Bloody Breathitt" County, in the Kentucky
Cumberlands. "Though faint, they are still pursuing,"
helping with prayers and pen, His cause, for whom they
left their home in New York and Connecticut many
years ago.

For them, and all these self-denying missionaries, we
beg the help of your prayers and alms. They are worthy
of both. They labor in the "regions beyond" churches
and preachers, with no hope of reward but the approval
of a good conscience, and the plaudit of the King whom
they serve.

A FLYING VISIT.

A brief account of a hurried trip to our missions in
the Great Smoky Mountains may not be uninteresting,

114 Galax Gatherers, and

especially to those who have so liberally sustained the
work, and the workers. A fast train carried me over
three hundred miles from my home, to the rushing
waters of the French-Broad River, North Carolina. The
same train bore to the Missionary Conference at Ashe-
ville many friends from all over the South. I was sorry
I could not have the pleasure of such company and en-
tertainment. At Del Rio, near the North Carolina line,
I left the railroad, and with Rev. Dan Little, boarded
a lumber-wagon for our Ebenezer Mission.

As there was no bed nor boards on the wagon, we
had to ride on the axle, seven miles over a terribly bad
road. I had to ride backwards, as Brother Dan was
not well, and had to occupy the seat on the axle with
the driver. It was a rough experience, but an old sol-
dier should not complain. At Del Rio we met a warm
reception by the noble ladies who conduct the Ebenezer
Mission — Miss Alice Warren, assisted by Miss Rose
Cunningham (lately a missionary to Cuba). These were
reinforced by Miss Ella Keigwin, from Florida, who
also had experience in mission work. It would be hard
to find three better Christian workers. They had anti-
cipated our coming, and prepared to keep us from get-
ting lonesome in these Great Smoky Mountains.

Appointments for preaching had been made for that
night, and twice on Saturday and twice on Sunday. The
people came day and night with commendable zeal,
though the roads were rough, and they all had to walk.
On Sunday the chapel was crowded, and many made
confession of faith in the Savior.

This is a splendid mission plant, of three stories, nicely
furnished, the gift of Mr. Nowack, the Moravian, to the

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 115

Soul Winners. Early Monday morning we started on
our way to Mr. Barrows, at the Seminary of the Great
Smoky Mountains. Mr. Little went on to Asheville,
via Del Rio. I crossed the mountain, on a little mule,
to the railroad, and walked two and a half miles on the
railroad to Bridgeport. I preferred the mule and the
mountain, and walk, to the axle-train to Del Rio. At
Newport, Tennessee, I took the little "Pea Vine" rail-
road up the Pigeon River. At Brown's, up the river
about twenty miles, Mr. Barrows met me with another
mule, and we climbed five hundred feet up the Great
Smoky Mountain, to the seminary.

Everything was greatly changed for the better, since
my former visit. The large Seminary had been built,
and furnished, the mission-house greatly improved, and
another Grace had been added to this excellent family.
They were all well, happy and busy, and nearer heaven
than most of us.

I reached the home at 6 P. M., Monday. At 7 P. M.
the Seminary Chapel was crowded with about one hun-
dred people, all of whom walked, after a hard day's
work. This is the busy season here and everybody
works, with no exception, even the women and children.
It is an awful poor country, and so steep ; most all work
is done with the hoe.

The mission here is prospering, after some four years'
hard work of these faithful and eflficient missionaries.
At six the next morning I took the train for the mission-
field in Mitchell County, North Carolina. Providence
sent clever John Stewart to meet me by chance, and
give me a cordial welcome to his hospitable home. With
only Sunday morning to give nQt\ce, the new axid coniv

116 Galax Gatherers, and

modious church was full at ii A. M. Is it a wonder
God loves the mountains and the mountaineers? Nearly
every great event in the life of Christ is connected with
some mountain, from His first sermon to His crucifixion
and ascension. Three splendid North Carolina women,
teachers of our missions in this county, met me at the
church — Misses Bessie Knox, Mary Price and Elva Mc-
Dowell. No wonder the old North State is proud of
her daughters.

Monday morning found me going down the rushing
Estatoa, through the great gorge of the Iron Mountain
to our missions on the Watauga. Here I visited those
Nestors among the Soul Winners — Mr. and Mrs. Par-
melee — who have, for six years, held forth the word of
life to the neglected Highlanders of Kentucky and Ten-
nessee, and who are determined to die at their post.
May that day be distant. Brother King and his faithful
wife met me at the station and accompanied me. I was
sorry I did not have time to visit them and their field
in Smoky, where they are trying to build a chapel. The
congregation sat on the ground, under the Oaks, when
I preached there last.

At 6 A. M. the next morning I started to visit the
mission of Misses Davidson and Hartwell, on Camp
Creek, forty miles below, under the Great Nola Chucky
Mountain. Nine miles of bad road from Greenville
brought me to the mission where Miss Davidson lives
and labors. Her companion, Mi&s Hartwell, had gone
to Rochester, New York, to solicit funds to help build a
larger school-house and a little mission-house to live
in. They are most deserving and self-denying Chris-
tians, and doing a noble work among those poor people,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 117

who live on the borderland of the world. I wish I could
lend my eyes to the Christian people who read this ac-
count. Then we would not need money to give a scant
support to these faithful teachers, and tens of thousands
of our poor countrymen would have the Gospel, and
richer rewards await the faithful helpers "at the Great
Day Coming."

BEAR CREEK.

That name is neither euphonious nor classical, but it
is more. It is immortal. Like the annals of the poor,
its story is short and simple.

One mild September afternoon, our horses carried us
over a mountain, through an unbroken wilderness, to
the head of Bear Creek. Its waters divide "Bloody
Breathitt" and classic Lee Counties, Kentucky. Be-
tween wooded mountains, it winds its way to the Middle
Fork of the Kentucky River, into which it empties its
muddy waters several miles above the junction of the
three rivers.

It lies in the "regions beyond"; beyond the railroads
and turnpikes ; beyond the blue grass and brick houses ;
beyond the churches and Sabbath schools.

The only road up Bear Creek is a devious path, prob-
ably not so good as when Daniel Boone killed bear and
bufifalo and Indians there a hundred years ago. The
little "patches" of the settlers have pushed the path out
of the narrow valley up on the mountain-side in many
places. But Bear Creek is in "the world" — the world
into which we are sent. It is peopled with "creatures"

118 Galax Gatherers, and

— the creatures to whom we are sent to "preach the Gos-
pel." The old log school-house was crowded with
people, inside and out, and it was as easy to preach to
those outside as inside. Indeed, there was not much
difference between the two sides.

They had no church. Few of them have ever seen
one. They had no preacher. Few of them ever passed
that way. The people did not know much, but they
knew they were sinners and needed a Savior, — knew
they must die, and wanted a better home than the cabins
on Bear Creek. So I tried to tell them of both. It was
not much trouble. I did not have to read it. The text
was the healing of the leper. It taught the hard doc-
trines of Calvinism, of our sin and ruin, and the glorious
Gospel of healing and life. They felt the disease, and
saw the Great Physician, and followed the leper to His
feet, sixteen of them. It was Pentecost on Bear Creek.
Old men and women, young men and maidens, and
little children, sought His life-giving touch, and, I be-
lieve, received it. I baptized twelve of them, some of
them well stricken in years. There was joy on Bear
Creek and in heaven that night.

An humble log-cabin nearby furnished us shelter
until next day. It was the home of two women, both
of whose husbands had been murdered. Their house
had only one room, but their hearts were four stories
high.

At 10 o'clock the next morning and at four in the
evening, I preached to the school-house full of eager
souls. Ten more gladly received Christ, and were bap-
tized.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 119

THE MORMONS IN THE MOUNTAINS.

My reply to your request to write something about
the ]\Iormons has been delayed by other matters, and
the hope that more competent hands would do it. The
conviction that somebody should expose this monster
iniquity of the century only impels me to comply with
your request.

I shall have time now, only to give an outline of their
origin and teachings. It would take volumes to fully
set forth the history of this modern abomination.

I feel confident that many of our people do not know
the character of this body, nor the magnitude of the
effort it is making to spread its doctrines. General
Eaton (ex-Commissioner of Education of the United
States) says that their missionaries are estimated to num-
ber two thousand three hundred.

I know they are travelling all over our land, two by
two, canvassing every school district, distributing litera-
ture, and preaching in public school-houses, contrary to
our law, which says, "No sectarian, infidel, or immoral
doctrine shall be taught in our school-houses." I have
met them in the most distant and inaccessible parts of
the mountains. "They compass sea and land to make
one proselyte." They have more missionaries in Ken-
tucky (and probably in every Southern State) than all
other denominations together. They have members in
every State and Territory but five, and have scores of
missionaries in foreign lands, and are winning perverts
to their faith by thousands. Of course, they are among
the poor and ignorant classes, but they have souls, and
constitute the mass of mankind.

120 Galax Gatherebs, and

As is well known, the founder of this sect was Joseph
Smith, who was born in Vermont in 1805, but brought
up in New York, at Palmyra. His mother was an igno-
rant and superstitious fortune-teller, and his neighbors
pronounced him "an ignorant, idle youth, given to
chicken-stealing." He could not write, though he could
read, and his favorite books were "Capt. Kidd, the
Pirate," and "Stephen Burroughs, the Clerical Scoun-
drel." How naturally his after-life took the complexion
of his companions. His associates in starting his church
were Sidney Rigdon, a backsliding preacher, and Parky
P. Pratt, a travelling tin-peddler, all unscrupulous, cun-
ning and characterless. They were followed by Brigham
Young, whom Judge Goodwin (editor of the Salt Lake
Tribune) describes as the "worst of men"; intellectually
he was not bright, but he was full of animal magnetism ;
and though his heart was that of a sheep, there was a
great deal of wolf in his forehead ; possessing a stub-
bornness that never yielded, and a plausible tongue. His
avarice was measureless. He never looked on without
coveting his neighbor's fair wife, good horse, or profit-
able investments. From such a source nothing but
Mormonism could proceed, and it is worthy of its
parentage.

The so-called "Book of Mormon" is a romance, en-
titled, "The Manuscript Found," written by an invalid
Congregational preacher named Solomon Spaulding, of
Ohio, but never published. It gives in Biblical style a
fanciful history of the Mound-builders, a people who are
supposed to have preceded the Indians in the Ohio Val-
ley. This manuscript fell into the hands of Smith or
Rigdon (stolen probably), and was grossly altered to

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 121

suit their purpose. This is the "Book of Mormon."
The Mormon Bible is a sacreligious imitation of the
Holy Bible, changed to suit the revolting doctrines of
the new faith of its founders.

"Joe" Smith was killed by his indignant and outraged
neighbors, at Carthage, Illinois, in 1844. Pratt was
killed in Arkansas in 1856 for stealing a man's wife.
Rigdon was expelled from the Mormon church and
given over to Satan by Brigham Young.

For doctrine, the Mormon church rests on two pil-
lars, polytheism and polygamy, twin relics of heathen-
ism : many gods and many wives. Take these away and
it falls like the temple of Dagon.

Adam is the Mormon god, and all the rest of their
gods were men, and became gods by practicing poly-
gamy. They teach that "God, angels and men are all
of one species."

They teach that the Holy Ghost is a man, one of the
sons of our Father and our God. I quote their own
language.

Their whole system is idolatrous man-worship. They
teach that their gods are polygamists; that Jesus Christ
had three wives.

Again, their chief god changes his mind when it suits
him (or them) as he did in once denouncing polygamy
(in 1830) and afterwards recommending it (in 1843) to
accommodate Joseph Smith.

It is the fashion of their missionaries to deny these
well-known facts, and especially their well-known prac-
tice of polygamy. But this is of a piece of their whole
system of deception in beguiling the ignorant into their
net. They are "wolves in sheep's clothing."

122 Galax Gatherers, and

Rev. Dr. Wishard, of Salt Lake City, says that poly-
gamy is fundamental to the system; that "it is now
taught and practiced in all the towns of Utah, where it
has ever been practiced." "The assertion that polygamy
is dead would produce a smile on the face of an honest
Mormon." This is the recent testimony of a distin-
guished clergyman who knows them well. "To live our
religion is to live in polygamy," said their priest, Mc-
Allister.

John D. Lee, for thirty-seven years a Mormon bishop
and priest, who was executed for murder, confessed that
he had nineteen wives and sixty-four children.

"The Mormon Saints" (they call themselves the "Lat-
ter Day Saints") "have made Utah a modern Sodom,
and the paradise of libertines." This is the testimony of
Judge Boreman, for eight years associate judge of the
Supreme bench of Utah, and before whom Bishop John
D. Lee was tried before he was executed. It was Lee
that led the Mountain Meadow massacre, in which more
than one hundred and twenty innocent emigrants were
murdered, and their property taken, in 1857.

Of course, you would not expect to find truth or
sobriety or other virtues in such company. So we were
told that profanity and perjury are almost universal. A
resident of Salt Lake City challenged any Mormon to
produce a single case where a Mormon was ever cut off
from his church for murder, theft, lying drunkenness,
fornication, profanity, or Sabbath-breaking. Miss Mary
Cort ( who taught five years in Utah) told me she never
knew a Mormon who would tell the truth when it would
convict another Mormon.

Prof. Coyner, for many years superintendent of Salt

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 123

Lake Collegiate Institute, says, "Business has thrown
me among all classes of society in various parts of the
world, but the most profane and vulgar address I ever
listened to, I heard delivered by Brigham Young, the
Mormon high priest and prophet."

"No pen can describe the demoralizing effect upon
the young, nor adequately set forth the lack of morality
on the part of a vast majority of young men and women
who are brought up in connection with it. In fact, they
don't seem to know what the term 'morality' means."
So says Rev. Dr. McNiece, for many years pastor of the
First Presbyterian Church of Salt Lake City.

Of course, hatred and persecution naturally belong to
such a system. And from the beginning they have
waged an unrelenting warfare against all others.

Their creed teaches disloyalty to all civil government,
and the President of the United States had to remove
Brigham Young from being Governor of Utah, and ap-
point a law-abiding citizen of Georgia in his place.

Private murder by their "blood avengers" culminated
at last in the "Mountain Meadow Massacre," when John
D. Lee, a Mormon elder, with a band of Mormons and
Indians, in Southern Utah, murdered, in cold blood, one
hundred and twenty men, women and children, emigrat-
ing from Arkansas to California. This man, inspired
by Brigham Young, was executed at last by the United
States authorities, after twenty years' delay by the Mor-
mons, who prevented his earlier conviction. Tlie pen-
alty for revealing the secrets of the Endowment House,
where all marriages are celebrated, is "to have your
throat cut from ear to ear, and your tongue torn from
your mouth."

I GrALAX GaTHEREHS, AND

Their vindictive spirit may be learned from this ex-
pression of one of their apostles, "I do pray for our
enemies. I pray that God will damn them and send
them down to hell." Such is the spirit of Mormonism.

The degradation of Mormonism falls more heavily
upon woman than upon man," says General Eaton. She
is made the tool and the slave of their greed and lust.
She cannot live on earth except as a concubine, nor
enter heaven at all, except by marriage. "I have shed
tears enough since I have been in polygamy to drown
myself twice over." This is the language of a Mormon
wife, of the prophet himself. Another said, "The plains
from Missouri to this valley are strewn with the bones
of those whom this system has killed, and the cemetery
hill is full of them, but every one of these women is now
wearing a martyr's crown."

Is anything else necessary to damn such a system?
You wonder that it could exist at all in this country of
ours. But remember the great majority of its adher-
ents are very ignorant and poor people, and many are
foreigners, who cannot read our language; many are
sincere and honest in their belief because they are en-
slaved by wicked and designing teachers.

But I weary you, and have no space to say anything
of the tyranny of their priesthood, nor the greed of their
tithing system, with an income of a million a year, and
no account of it given, nor of their celestial marriages
(of the living to the dead), nor their baptism for the
dead, nor their doctrine of the "blood atonement" which
taught that a man might be murdered to save his soul.
These are some, not all, of the tenets of this monstrous

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 125

crime of the nineteenth century, this open sore of the
world.

I do not wonder that Rev. Dr. McNiece says, "Let
Paganism, Judaism, Jesuitism, Protestantism and Dia-
bolism be shaken up and the result is Mormonism."

God's description of this abomination is found in 2
Peter ii.

To his hands we confidently commit its overthrow, and
pray for our country and our chilrden.

SATAN AND THE MORMONS.

For the information of those earnest Christians who
are trying to send "the Gospel to every creature" I will
give some account of an humble endeavor to preach it
to our poor neighbors.

On Tuesday morning, July 19th, I left my home for
the mountains of Kentucky with my little daughter,
Annie, and her companion, Susie Chambers, to play the
organ and help in the singing.

We spent the first night in Jackson, the capital of
Southeastern Kentucky, and the next morning we
started to the waters of the Middle Fork of the Ken-
tucky River, twenty miles over the mountains. At El-
katawa, a mule-team took aboard the girls and baggage,
organ, tent, boxes of Bibles, tracts, etc. Mr. Moore
kindly loaned me his horse, and he rode with the girls
and driver, John Spicer, in the wagon.

We got an early start, but had gone only a little way
when one of our mules had a "spell," and fell down and
rolled ov-er in the harness. This operation he repeated

126 Galax Gatherers^ and

until he had consumed half a day and all of our patience,
so we sent and got another mule, after walking across
the mountain to the South Fork of Canoe Fork of the
Middle Fork of Kentucky River. At Samuel Callahan's
we found Mr. Leonard Mason, one of our "Soul Win-
ners," who is laboring in that section, organizing and
teaching Sabbath schools and distributing Bibles, tracts,
etc.

Just as we crossed the Kentucky River, a big rain
caught us and poured down for an hour or two on our
heads, organ, tent, and "things," but poorly protected
by a wagon cover, hastily stretched on sticks. Eight miles
further up this beautiful river, in the rain, brought us to
Crockettsville, which we found to be a movable post-
ofifice, sometimes up the river and sometimes down. It
is at present located at the mouth of Long's Creek, at
Mr. Beaton's. Finding no place there for our tent, we
went a mile up Long's Creek to the fork at Mr. Calla-
han's. Here we found a Kentucky welcome and gen-
erous hospitality at Edward Callahan's. They took u.^.
all in out of the wet, and made us feel at home.

Thursday morning, a force of clever men helped ur>
put up the big tent and seat it with rough planks from
a saw-mill nearby. God had planted a grove of big
sycamores there years ago, just where we wanted them,
and by them we spread His tabernacle. At 2 o'clock
we had it up, and at three, I preached to some forty
people.

The next morning we began at half-past 9 o'clock,
because the people came, and closed at 3 P. M., with
recess for dinner (though a good many had no dinner).
This order we maintained for ten days, only holding

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 127

until 4 P. M. generally. It was more teaching than
preaching, or, rather, preaching that was teaching. The
exercises were relieved by songs, prayers and sometimer>
exhortations of the two young men (Mr. Moore and
Mr. Mason), who rendered valuable assistance in sing-
ing, seating the people, etc. Just as we expected, Satan
came up with the sons of God and tried to break up our
meeting. Before we could begin on Saturday morning,
two leading citizens fell out and fought over seventy-five
cents. They had come to church unarmed, and before
they could get weapons we began our service, and at
the close got both beligerants to our quarters and settled
the difficulty. One paid the other seventy-five cents ;
both withdrew their insults and shook hands, and whip-
ped the Devil.

On Sunday a great crowd came, and after the morn-
ing service one young lady. Miss Lucinda Deaton, came
forward to profess her faith in Christ. At the afternoon
services a number more, mostly grown persons, made
confession of faith in Christ. None of these I received
until further instruction and inquiry. While the mass
of these people are unlearned in books, they are far from
being ignorant. They are unusually bright, quick-
witted and intelligent, but need instruction in the Bible,
because of their long isolation from schools and
churches. For fifty miles along this river there is only
one church, a little log-building occupied occasionally
by Baptist brethren. What other preaching they have is
done in little school-houses, by their native preachers, — •
some good, some bad, all unlearned.

On Monday morning I lectured on the Morman
Abomination, as I knew their missionaries were every-

128 Galax Gatherers, and

where throughout these mountains, trying to mislead
the people. I had sent to my friend, Dr. Wishard, at
Salt Lake City, and obtained the best literature on the
subject, and judged the heresy out of the mouths of its
leading apostles. Miss Mary Cort, of Pennsylvania,
for five years a teacher in Utah, was present and corro-
borated the facts from her own observation. This ex-
cellent Christian lady is now organizing and teaching
Sabbath schools in the neighboring county of Owsley,
and doing a noble work.

In spite of rains, every day, the congregations and
interest increased through the week, and a number con-
fessed their faith in Christ.

On Wednesday, Satan came up again, with two Mor-
mon elders, who requested permission to explain their
doctrines. I informed them I had already explained
them, — all their "Thirteen Articles of Faith," — even
more fully than they did. They "believed in God"
(several of them), but forgot to tell the people that they
held that Adam was God, and Eve was one of God's
wives; that Jesus was His Son, but not a Savior; that
the Holy Ghost was a man ; that they believed men
became God's by becoming Mormons and marrying
every woman they could "fool" ; that no unmarried
woman could go to heaven; that their Danites were
organized to murder those who repudiated the Mormon
heresy. They were shocked at my want of brotherly
love, but confessed that Brigham Young had seven
wives (he had nineteen or more), but excused him be-
cause he was a "Prophet of God." I said that I was
somewhat of a prophet myself, and had only one, all
that God allowed any bishop. They concluded that we

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 129

were incorrigible, and took a sudden departure for dis-
tant fields. The people were incensed at their presence,
and bade them leave their country.

On Saturday, a very large congregation came and
filled the big tabernacle, which had about five hundred
seats. This morning I preached on the mode of bap-
tism, as only one seemed to be known in this country,
where I did not find a single Methodist and only one
member of our Church. To-day a Universalist preacher
came, but did not remain to both services. I asked the
people if I should preach the whole Gospel, which said
the "wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations
that forget God." They asked me to preach the whole
truth, and I did the best I could, and some fifty-four
persons confessed the Savior that day. A big storm
came up in the afternoon and blew my tent down, but
we succeeded in getting it fixed without anyone being
hurt. On the preceding Tuesday, Rev. Dr. E. W.
Bedinger, in the employment of the "Soul Winners,"
came up and preached two excellent sermons, and then
went to the Upper Quicksand to hold a meeting with
our young missionaries (Allen and Crockett), who are
laboring in that destitute country. On Wednesday, Rev.
Mr. Baxter, of Booneville, came up and spoke a good
word for our Lord. Rev. William Jones, of New York,
an aged Presbyterian, teaching in Owsley County, was
with us Saturday and Sunday, and rendered valuable
assistance. At every service I gave a Bible or Testa-
ment to every family which had none, and it took some
three hundred copies to supply the demand. Generous
friends in New York had sent them for this purpose.
Besides these, we gave away thousands of tracts, papers,

130 Galax Gatherers, and

etc., all of which were gladly received. Many of the
older people could not read, but their children could.

God gave us a good day on Sunday, and a great
blessing. The people from four counties began to
assemble at 8 o'clock A. M., and at nine the big tent
was full, and hundreds stood outside. I suppose there
were six or seven hundred people present ; some said a
thousand. (We could have done without about twenty-
five babies, but didn't mention it.) At 9 o'clock Messrs.
Chambers, Moore and Mason conducted a Sabbath
school under difficulties in such a crowd. At 10 A. M.
we began the services, and at the close of the sermon
some thirty-two persons came forward to confess the
Savior. It was Pentecost on Long's Creek, and the
people were moved to tears of joy. At 2 P. M. I
preached again, and fifteen more confessed Christ, after
which Brother Jones and I baptized eighty-eight per-
sons, most of whom were grown and heads of families.
After this, by the unanimous request of the people, we
organized a church with one hundred and thirty-one
members. The congregation nominated and elected
Albert Ingold, A. C. Adams and John A. Turner to be
elders, all Christian men of age and experience, and of
"good report." Mr. Ingold is a native of North Caro-
lina; Mr. Adams, the only Presbyterian there before,
and a teacher in the neighborhood. The deacons elected
were Samuel Davidson, Jesse Spicer, and Daniel Turner,
excellent young men in whom the people have confi-
dence. These were duly ordained and installed by
Brother Jones and myself, after their duties had been
explained and the warrant and qualifications for these
offices read out of God's Word. A subscription of about

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 131

four hundred dollars was raised to build a church. This
is a good sum for poor people who were never taught
to give anything to the church. Most of it was to be
paid in lumber, work, etc., because they have little or no
money. They thought they could build it without help.
Edward Callahan, Berry Turner and Robert Deaton,
three business men, were elected a committee to build
the church. iVrthur McDaniel, Joseph Smith, and Gran-
ville Riley were elected trustees. So closed a day long
to be remembered on the Kentucky River, when God
visited His children in the Highlands. At 5 P. M. I
dismissed them, and they went reluctantly to their homes,
some of them ten and fifteen miles away.

Many promised to set up a family altar in their homes.
That God will keep them is our humble prayer. We
ask yours also. We hope soon to see a faithful shep-
herd over this new flock of our Master's fold. In the
meantime, Mr. Moore and Mr. Mason will teach the chil-
dren in the Sabbath school and instruct the people as
they are able. Having exhausted our time and strength,
we began our journey home early Monday morning;
but not until we had laid ofT the site for the church and
broken dirt for the foundation. Another rain caught us
on the way, but fortunately we had crossed the moun-
tain. We reached the railroad four minutes before the
train, and then home safely on Tuesday, thankful for
the privilege of preaching the Gospel anywhere, and
especially where it is so much needed and so gratefully
received.

132 Galax Gatherers, and

THE MISSION ON THE CANOE.

Away up in the Cumberlands is a little glassy stream,
one of a thousand, meandering between mountains of
green foliage, and called by the natives, Canoe.

It is so far out of the world few people ever find it,
except "log men" and "sheep men," and the Great Shep-
herd's men, seeking for His lost sheep. Even these last-
named have not been as diligent as their Master, for
many of these lost ones are still wandering over the
mountains without a shepherd or a fold.

Forty families live on this little stream, which is only
a few miles in length, and many more live on the beau-
tiful Middle Fork of the Kentucky River, into which
Canoe pours its perennial tribute of pure water.

Early this summer, the Soul Winners established a
mission there, and placed Mrs. Kate Robards, of Wil-
more, Kentucky, and Mrs. Mattie Stewart, of Micanopy,
Florida, in charge. Of course, there was no church
there, nor Sabbath school, nor house where they could
teach, but a deserted log-cabin which clever Ned Turner
loaned the ladies after he had moved out his corn-fodder.

This little house was soon filled with men, women and
children, all eager to hear the "sweet old story," which
was new to very many of them.

I need not say, it was told them, as only a loving
woman can tell it. Soon so many came Mrs. Robards
had to move out of the cabin into the big room outside,
under the broad-armed beech-trees, by the little stream.
Here scores of children and old people, too, sat on cross-
ties and learned lessons of eternal life. Mr. Elias Moore,

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Sketches of the American Highlanders. 133

a mountain boy, and seminary student, helped in the
week and preached on Sunday to big crowds, who sat
on the ground, on the side of the mountain.

The school went on week after week, and the children
of the hills, quick of wit and light of foot, devoured the
little. Cathechisms, until they got to the big ones, memor-
ized the Scriptures, and made their mountain dells echo
with the songs of Zion.

In due time, Dr. Guerrant went up and spread a big
white cotton church on the bank of the Canoe, to help
the good women in their work of soul winning.

Little Anne took her mountain organ to help lead the
singing. It is not necessary to say the children and
old people came. They came in crowds, on foot and
horse-back and mule-back. Came at 8 o'clock in the
morning, and came to stay all day, and sit on a six-inch
plank, within six inches of the ground.

God came, too. His Son said he would, even where
two or three others come. He never fails. He loves to
come to church and see His children. It is not neces-
sary to say. He brought a blessing with Him. He al-
ways does.

Day after day, one and another of His humble children
came back to His Father's house and heart; and on
Thursday, there was joy on Canoe and in Heaven, when
fifty confessed the Savior, and thirty-five were baptized.
No such a day had ever been seen and felt on Canoe, and
the people rejoiced to see it, and thanked God for it.
Old Uncle Nathan Arrowood, born on the head of the
Swannanoa, North Carolina, some eighty-four years ago,
an old settler here, and Baptist preacher, was present,

134 Galax Gatherers, and

and made an earnest exhortation, and thanked God he
had Hved to see that glad day.

Dr. Saunders had come down from his mission at
Gross', some fifteen miles up the river, and preached
better, I think, than he ever did at his old church, at
Springfield. Mrs. Emma Gordon, Miss Louise Saund-
ers and Miss Eliza Gordon, from the upper missions at
Crockettsville and Squabble Creek, came down to see
and to help ; and Stuart Crockett, from Frozen Creek,
also lent a helping hand. No wonder they came. It
was good to be there. Nothing on earth has the draw-
ing power of the Man on the Cross, when he is "lifted
up." Every other attraction fades away when the Sun
of righteousness arises on the soul, with the glory of
heaven. He rose over the gloomy hills of Canoe that
day, and will never set in all the eternity of some humble
lives, who saw that "Great Light" for the first time.

It is due to say, that half the number, or more, owe
their conversion to the faithful instruction of the noble
women who had been teaching the mission school. Con-
stellations of stars will form tiaras of undying glory for
their brows in heaven. Dr. Guerrant could stay only
one week, but Dr. Saunders and Mr. Moore continued
the meeting over Sabbath, and received seventeen more
members, by baptism.

The people determined to build a church, if possible,
and raised a subscription of two hundred and fifty dol-
lars for the purpose. They elected Messrs. Robert
Davidson, Samuel Callahan, Ned Turner and Granville
Spicer a committee to build the church, the first in the
land.

This is one of three missions established and supported

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 135

by the Society of Soul Winners in this section of the
Cumberland Mountains. Some three hundred children,
and many of their parents, are being taught the saving
truths of the Gospel, by six faithful women.

Dr. Miles Saunders has charge of this field, and is
being greatly blessed in his work. Over one hundred
souls have been added to the church in the last two
months, and this is only one field occupied among hun-
dreds that are as vacant and as promising as this was.

The Society has some twenty-five such mission
schools, but that is "only a drop in the bucket." There
ought to be hundreds and thousands.

"Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest, that He
will send forth laborers into the harvest."

And prove the sincerity of your prayers by your gifts
to this great and blessed work.

When a child I heard the people sing (and doubtless
my mother among them) :

"O'er the gloomy hills of darkness
Look my soul, be still and gaze,
All the promises do travail
With a glorious day of grace !
Blessed jubilee!
Let thy glorious morning dawn !"

I did not know what that meant then ; I know better
now, since I saw the dawning of that glorious morning
on the Canoe. And I think I can more sincerely say:

"Fly abroad, thou mighty Gospel,
Win and conquer — never cease;
May tliy lasting wide dominion
Multiply and still increase!
Sway thy scepter,
Savior, all the world around."

136 Galax Gatherers^ and

DEDICATION OF THE CHURCH OF THE

CANOE.

A little more than a year ago, two mission teachers
(of the Society of Soul Winners), opened a Bible school
on the Canoe, a little branch of the Upper Fork of the
Kentucky River. These were Mrs. Kate Robards, of
Wilmore, Kentucky, and Mrs. Mattie Stewart, of
Florida. They were afterwards assisted by Miss Mary
Scrogin, of Versailles, Kentucky.

During the summer. Dr. Guerrant visited that section
of the mountains and preached a week under a large
tent. Some fifty persons confessed Christ and were bap-
tized. Rev. Dr. Miles Saunders and Mr. Elias Moore
were present and rendered valuable assistance.

The mission school suspended during the winter for
want of a place to teach it. There was no church in the
country, and no school-house that could be warmed.

When in New York, last winter. Dr. Guerrant re-
ceived a promise from Rev. Harvey Murdoch's Sunday
school to help build a church on the Canoe. That prom-
ise was faithfully kept, and the self-denying children of
that noble church sent two hundred and fifty dollars to
help build the church.

The work was begun in April, and the church finished
on July 27th. Mr. Murdoch came on from New York
to attend the dedication.

After a few days' rest at Wilmore, we started to the
Canoe. A hundred miles by rail brought us to Elka-
tawa, where we were met by Mr. Addison Talbott, of

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 137

Versailles, Kentucky, another Soul Winner employed on
the Canoe.

A horse, a mule and a road-wagon conveyed us over
the mountain, eleven miles to the Canoe. It was very
hot and dry, and all signs of rain seemed to fail. A
large, live snake was hung by its tail over the road in
a vain eflfort to make it rain. Not believing in such
signs or snakes, Dr. Guerrant killed the snake and took
the chances.

Evening brought us to the Canoe. To our surprise
and delight, we found a beautiful church (24 by 40 feet)
standing where the tent stood a year ago, the first church
in that land, and the only one many there had ever
seen. It was nicely painted white without, and beau-
tifully papered within. Comfortable pews and a neat
pulpit, beautiful flowers, and a crowd of happy children
furnished it.

They had been singing since 2 o'clock, waiting for
our coming, at five. The larger part of the credit for
the building belongs to Mr. Talbott and Miss Alida
Beyer, of Brooklyn, New York, who gave up her posi-
tion as city missionary, and came to the Canoe in May
to teach the children of the mountains. They worked
with their own hands, assisting the carpenters to finish
the church for the dedication.

Sunday, the 28th of July, was a beautiful day. The
mountains of foliage tempered the sunshine and cooled
the atmosphere.

The crowds, mostly on foot, gathered by 8 o'clock,
and by 9 A. M. the house was crowded. Scores of
children were glad to find scats on the pulpit platform.

They had never seen the like before. By invitation,

138 Galax Gatherers^ and

Mr. Murdoch preached the dedication sermon, from
Joshua xxiv, 15, and a most appropriate discourse.

After the sermon, some fifty persons came forward
to profess their faith in Christ, many of them for the
first time. A subscription was made of over thirty dol-
lars, to pay a balance due on the church building-. The
church was then solemnly dedicated to the service of
God.

It was the greatest event in the lives of these poor
people, or in the history of the covmtry.

This is the work of the Society of Soul Winners in
one year, sustained by the gifts, and encouraged by the
prayers, of many of God's generous children all over
the land.

This neat, comfortable and substantial church, which
seats two hundred and fifty people, was built at a cost
not exceeding $350.00, and finished in three months'
time, though the lumber had to be brought eight miles.
The Society is engaged in building three other
churches in these mountains, but what are three to so
many hundreds of churchless places, and so many thou-
sands of Christless people?

Mr. Murdoch and Dr. Guerrant held services two
days more, at 8 A. M. and 4 P. M., and on Tuesday
evening baptized six persons, one a man who had kept
X saloon.

On Wednesday, they went to Turner's Creek, where
Dr. Saunders was holding services under a tent, the first
and only church here, in a hundred years.

Crowds came on foot to hear the Gospel, and many
have already accepted Christ. Inspired with new life
and hope, they, too, have set to work to build a log

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 139

church, having no help, and being too poor to buy even
rough plank. Dr. Saunders promises to have it done
by September.

Dr. Saunders and Mr. Murdoch went on to Crocketts-
ville, where Miss Mary McCorkle Wilson is teaching a
mission in the church built there last summer.

Dr. Guerrant went by Lick Branch, a wild, poor coun-
try, where Miss Margaret Sinclair is teaching a mission
of over sixty children, and their parents. He preached
once in the school-house, and the first one to accept
Christ was the oldest man in the house ; and many others
followed him. Dr. Guerrant baptized him and his daugh-
ter the next morning.

There is no church in this part of the country, but
Mr. Adams, a native teacher, is employed by the Society
of Soul Winners to hold services in the little school-
house. He is a good man, though, like all the rest, he
is very poor. Nothing seems to flourish here but crowds
of bright, bare-footed children.

There was a large attendance at Crcokettsville Church,
overcrowded sometimes at 8 A. M. and 4 P. M., and Dr.
Saunders and Mr. Murdoch and Dr. Guerrant all
preached every day for three days.

A few years ago there was no church in this country,
and hardly a professing Christian ; now there is a beau-
tiful church building, and nearly every one a member of
the church.

Mr. Murdoch returned to Canoe ,and preached on the
Sabbath, and Dr. Guerrant preached at Crockettsville,
where eight adults and ten infants were baptized by Dr.
Saunders. The church could not hold the people. At

140 Galax Gatherers^ and

Canoe, Mr. Murdoch baptized seven more on profession
of faith.

The Society has now six promising missions in this
field, taught by Mrs. Saunders, Mrs. Gordon and Misses
Wilson, Beyer, Sinclair and Pollei, aided by Dr. Saund-
ers and Mr. Talbott.

There are no other missions or churches in this
region, or beyond it, for many desolate miles. Have you
a part in this great work? If so, rejoice and thank God.
If not, help save your countrymen, and be saved in so
doing.

ON THE CANOE.

A brief account of a visit to this mountain stream may
not be uninteresting to some of our readers. I had to
go, though I hardly had the time or inclination for such
a trip. But duty knows no "convenient season," and
Miss Withers, the faithful mission teacher, needed help,
so I started the hundred miles into the mountains. A
railroad wreck left me at the forks of the Kentucky
River at dark, and no conveyance to bed or supper. So
with some raftsmen I crossed the river in a little canoe
and walked a mile and a half to "Old Canaan" (now
fashionably called St. Helens). A clever man gave me
a cold supper, and a warm feather bed. The early train
took me to Torrent, the great rock-house-amphitheatre
which God built, big enough to hold a congregation of
ten thousand. Here I hoped to meet Miss Houston,
from North Carolina, but she had just gone to Okla-
homa, on the clififs of the Red River, where she con-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 141

ducted a mission so successfully last year. Her health
compelled her to seek a lower country, but the people
persuaded her to come back. Noon brought me to Elka-
tawa, where I met our good helper, Mr. Evan Evans,
who had just returned from his mother's burial in New
York. He said there were one hundred and twenty-
five at prayer-meeting, this week, at Kessler Chapel. A
mountain-climbing horse carried me ten miles to the
Canoe, most of the way, up rushing Cane Creek, which
overflowed the whole road, after a flood last night. I
forded it lengthwise. The river rose sixteen feet, and
swept away tens of thousand of logs and ties, the product
of months of toil by the mountain men. I pity them.
Night brought me to a little cabin on the Canoe, where
Miss Withers, a noble daughter of Virginia, keeps one
cat, one dog and one hen. By dint of pluck and perse-
verance she made it clean and pretty, with wall-paper
and a broom. Like the toad, its jewel was inside, for
it was homely enough outside. In her absence, I ex-
amined the garden, two feet wide, in the corner of the
yard, planted in radishes, lettuce, etc., above the reach
of the creek. A providential storm had blown a big
sycamore across the swollen stream just where she
needed it, to enable her to cross to the chapel, without
wading. People in the lowlands fail to see such bless-
ings in disguise, and miss the grandeur and inspiration
of these mountains. I found Miss Withers knew how
to cook as well as teach and write books, for she gave
me two nice meals. Such things belong to a finished
education, though some women never find it out. Sun-
day morning was as gloomy and foreboding as Satan
could have wished, but God held up the rain and filled

14S Galax Gatherers, and

the church with a most respectful and attentive congre-
gation, who walked and waded to the house of God.
She taught the whole Sabbath school alone, for want of
a helper, though it was filled with children from five to
fifty years of age. And some people think their high-
land neighbors need no help. In the afternoon she
walked several miles down the river to teach another
Sabbath school at the Beech Grove, and I had to meet
an appointment at Turner's Creek at 3 P. M. To avoid
the swollen river and a landslide, I took a nearer road
over the mountain. It was my first (and last) trip by
this way. I cannot describe it, in three languages. The
entrance to the mountain path, like the way of life, was
so straight and narrow I missed it, until turned back
by a friendly mountaineer. The so-called road was a
rocky torrent, four feet wide at its mouth, and it filled
all the valley between the mountains. It narrowed to
two feet half way up, and finally disappeared entirely in
an abrupt ascent to the top. Riding was out of the ques-
tion, and walking nearly as doubtful. I had a trained
mountain horse, with prehensible feet, like a goat, and
he was exhausted when he reached the top. But the
wilderness and mountains repaid the toil and labor. Not
even the song of a wild bird broke the awful stillness
of this primeval forest. Only God could be seen and
heard. I pity the denizens of the cities who never get
so near to Nature, and Nature's God. But if the ascent
was hard to make, or describe, the descent was unspeak-
able. It was dangerous even to lead a horse down the
great masses of rocks almost perpendicular, with only a
foct-hold occasionallv, for man or beast. Chenowee
sfrM Pike's Peak wene easy tb it. I never wish my eniemy

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 143

placed in such distress and danger. I reached "Tabby
John" Turner's, at the foot of the mountain, ahve and
thankful. In the little log-cabin by Gordon Chapel I
found the faithful missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Burville,
who gave me a dinner and a good congregation, that
came conveniently at 2 P. M., instead of 3 P. M. They
have a difficult field, but I found to-day, and long ago,
that "Jordan is a hard road to travel," but it leads to the
land of perpetual milk and honey. I was impressed with
their diligence in business, when he announced services
of song and prayer, Bible study, and cottage prayer-
meetings, etc., for nearly every night in the week, regu-
larly, though this is the busy season, when everything
that can lift a hoe is at work on the mountains. Dr.
and Mrs. Saunders and Mrs. Gordon, who started this
mission, left a fragrant memory here, and God is re-
warding them. As I had seventeen miles to travel and
two mountains to cross, this evening, I concluded to
return by another way than the big mountain. The road
was not so steep, but almost as rough. Night found mc
on the Puncheon Camp, after a hard ride through the
mud and water. "Proctor Bill" met me at the big
Indian Rock, and piloted me to Puncheon Camp, where
I found Miss Sights installed as teacher, to the delight
of everybody on the creek. The busy Highlanders had
cut one hundred and twenty logs for the college, on the
mountain tops, and dragged them down to the valley.
They had already put up a little cottage for the teachers,
and covered it witli the remnant of my big tent which
the storm had destroyed. Here Mr. Evans had preached
yesterday in the second church on Puncheon Camp, to
a good congregation. The first was the tent, by two

144 Galax Gatherers^ and

weeks. All were delighted and enthusiastic over the
prospect of having a school and church, after waiting a
hundred years. May God reward all who help them.

FROM THE "REGIONS BEYOND."

It was dark when I reached the new church, on the
Middle Fork of the Kentucky River, and Brother John
Baker DeVault was preaching a good sermon to an
attractive little congregation, seated on rough boards.

I thank God for what my eyes beheld, the first church
building on a river over one hundred miles long, in a
county settled over one hundred years ago.

One year ago, there was but one Presbyterian on this
river. Now this church numbers one hundred and
seventeen members. One year ago I organized this
church, out of doors, for want of a better place. Now
we are worshipping in a large, comfortable and substan-
tial frame building, capable of seating three hundred
people. Though yet unfinished, it afforded comfortable
quarters for our meeting. The church is built in Elder
Jesse Spicer's front yard, donated by this liberal servant
of God, besides a generous sum of money. It stands on
a beautiful eminence, a high promontory, overlooking a
great bend in the river, and in the center of a large popu-
lation. The lumber used in the construction was
brought on push-boats some forty miles, because there
are no saw-mills on this river, except the ancient whip-
saw, run by two strong men. This church owes much
to dear Brother William B. Cooper and his faithful co-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 145

worker, James M. Little, who supply this field with
preaching.

The morrow was the Sabbath, and a great congre-
gation filled the church, many coming as far as ten or
fifteen miles, over mountain roads. Five persons, all
adults, joined the church after the sermon, on profession
of faith. The services were continued until Thursday
morning. Brothers Cooper and DeVault rendering val-
uable assistance.

On Monday we had a big rain-storm. As half the
top of the church was uneovered, and no windows, nor
doors, the congregation got a good wetting. But they
stood their ground bravely and took the rain rather than
miss the service. God blesses such people. Brother
Cooper held an umbrella over me while I preached. At
the close of the service three persons came forward and
accepted Christ, one an old man of seventy years. As
the nights were so dark and the roads dangerously bad
in places we held two services by daylight, at lo A. M.
and 4 P. M. A great majority of the people walked,
many of them several miles, and most of them attended
both services. All business, except the greatest busi-
ness, was suspended, and the people came to hear and
believe God. God honored their faith and devotion, and
gave them a great blessing.

On Wednesday morning, after the service, twenty-
three persons came forward to accept Christ, many of
them aged people, twenty of whom I baptized, having
never before belonged to any church. It was a rich
compensation of God's love and mercy bestowed on His
poor mountain children, who had so faithfully worked
for His glory. That day repaid amply all they had done

146 Galax Gatherers, and

and suffered in His blessed cause. Oh, that God would
visit His older and richer churches with a portion of
their zeal and their reward!

At the evening service, nine more united with the
church, making thirty-two on that day. Engagements
at Jackson compelled me to leave on Thursday morn-
ing, greatly to my regret. Fifty-six persons, almost
all adults, had united with the church since Sunday, in
four days. To God be all the glory.

On our way to Jackson, Thursday morning, at the
urgent request of the people, we stopped and preached
at 9 o'clock, in the little vacant log-house of "Buck Eye
Bill Gabbard," on the head of the Puncheon Camp
Creek. The house was literally packed, inside and out-
side, most of the men standing around the door.

After the sermon, eighteen persons, some of them
aged people, and some of them bright children, came
forward to profess their faith in Christ, most of whom
were there baptized and added to the Middle Fork
Church. This extraordinary result was due largely to
the faithful efforts of the poor and humble mountain
boy, Lewis G. Hensley, who, for nearly a year, has, al-
most unaided, conducted a Sabbath school in this neigh-
borhood, teaching sometimes one hundred pupils, many
of them how to read, all of them how to love and serve
God. These additions gave the church at Middle Fork
one hundred and ninety members before it is a year old.

Truly, God's arm is not shortened, nor his ear heavy.
His word is still true. "Every one that asketh receiv-
eth." These people believe God and "all things are
possible to him that believeth." It is a good church,
composed of the best people in the country, who love

Old School House at Puncheon Camp

New School House at Puncheon Camp

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 147

their church "and show their faith by their works."
Their elder rode about one hundred miles, on horse-
back, to represent his church in the last meeting of Pres-
bytery, while some could not come twenty miles on the
cars.

This church at Jackson is Brother Little's home
church, and is a noble tribute to God's liberal children
throughout Kentucky, who have contributed to its erec-
tion. It is the first church building of any kind ever
erected in this old county seat, and the first frame church
ever built in this large and populous country. We or-
ganized this church two years ago, in the old court-
house. We began without a single member ; the church
has now over one hundred members. Then there were
only two or three Presbyterians in the county ; now
there are nearly four hundred, with two large churches
already built and work begun on the third.

PUNCHEON CAMP.

Jesus made many humble names immortal. I was
present when he touched Puncheon Camp and eternal-
ized this little mountain stream, in the annals of heaven.
It was on this wise:

Once on a preaching tour through the mountains, an
humble, unlettered young man joined the church.
Among a hundred others, he made no impression on
me unless it was by his homeliness. He was so ill-
favored that one would not forget him, though that
would not recommend him to a very favorable considera-
tion. On a subsequent visit he met me at the church on

148 Galax Gatherers^ and

the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River, and urged me
to visit his Sunday school on Puncheon Camp. I was
astonished that he had a Sunday school anywhere, espe-
cially on Puncheon Camp.

It was several miles from where he worked (as a hired
hand), among a sparsely-settled people, in a narrow val-
ley between big mountains. I had no time to spare to
visit his school, but he urged so persistently I promised
to stop on the Puncheon Camp Creek at 9 o'clock Thurs-
day morning on my way to Jackson, and preach to his
Sunday school. I could hardly believe that a Sunday
school could be gathered at 9 o'clock on a week day, out
of those wild, rough mountains. I did not know the
man. It was blazing hot ; I came near having a sun-
stroke as I crossed the mountain at the head of the
Puncheon Camp, though I started early. By 9 o'clock
I came in sight of the old deserted Gabbard house, where
the Sunday school was taught. There was no other
place to teach on that mountain creek. Imagine my
astonishment, when I saw an anxious crowd of men,
women and children filling the house, porch and yard at
9 o'clock in the morning. They had climbed the moun-
tains and crossed the streams, on foot, to hear the
Gospel.

My friend was there, and made a place big enough
for me to stand, in a crowd that filled every inch of
space both inside and outside the house. His equip-
ment for Sabbath school consisted of one small copy
of Gospel Hymns (words only), and a small ten-cent
Testament. Out of these he taught the Puncheon
campers to sing, and love Jesus. He led the singing
and I preached. It was no trouble. A man couldn't

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 149

help preaching there and then. A hundred eager, earn-
est people sitting on the floor and porches of a mountain
cabin would make the dumb speak, and the stones cry
out, if others were silent.

The poor, untutored lad who had spelled out the
story of Jesus' love to the simple mountain folk had
sowed the seed of the Kingdom, I watered it,
and God "gave the increase." I don't remember
the sermon, but I do remember that when I was done,
eighteen souls, some well stricken in years, some
in the dew of youth, came forward to say they
believed in Jesus, and rejoiced in the new-found hope
of everlasting life. It was not far from there to heaven
that day, for God makes heaven, and He was there. His
finger touched their eyes, and they wept tears of peni-
tential grief ; touched their hearts, and they opened them
to the footsteps of the King ; touched their lips, and they
"rejoiced with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." Jesus
immortalized Puncheon Camp with His presence that
day, and enrolled its name among the trophies of His
grace. The humble name of Lewis Hensley may never
pass the horizon of his mountain home, but it is known
and honored in heaven, and will outlast and outshine the
names of all earth's conquerors, who never knew and
loved the lowly Nazarcnc. He was a Soul Winner.

"Are you allured by peace and velvet ease?
The choice is yours to seek them, if you please.
Then tempt me not, while these, my brother men.
Crawl up the stairs of pain on bleeding knees."

150 Galax Gatherers, and

TWENTY YEARS AFTER.

I made my second trip to Puncheon Camp last Sun-
day. The old people had most all crossed the River of
Death, and the children were grown and married. Only
the beautiful green mountains and the glassy stream
remained the same. Those living remembered me well,
and received me with a characteristic Highland welcome.
There was no school-house or church yet on this creek,
though twenty years had passed away. I stopped at Mr.
Breck Herald's for dinner. Twelve handsome children
blessed his home, and had not placed a wrinkle on the
gentle mother's face. The youngest was burdened with my
hard name, but seemed as happy as the rest. They begged
for a chapel and a school. They never had one, and no
one to help build it. Mr. Herald offered to give an acre
or two of his little meadow and a hundred dollars to
build the chapel, and board the teacher free, and give up
the best room in his house for the school. The neigh-
bors were as anxious as he for help. By God's help
they shall have the chapel and school-house before the
snow falls, and a teacher before harvest.

Soon after dinner, with little Mary Hamlin behind me,
and "Proctor Bill" for guide, we went up the Puncheon
Camp, by Mr. Gabbard's, where I preached twenty years
ago. He was alive and grateful and paralyzed. He de-
serves a better home, and will soon get it.

We then crossed the Chenowee Mountain. Mr. Little
forewarned me, it was a rough one, and that means un-
speakable to lowlanders. My vocabulary is not equal to

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 151

Chenowee. By hard holding and pulling we managed to
climb to the top of the pass, but nothing availed us in
coming down. Even "Proctor Bill" gave it up, and
horses and all slid down, over rocks and steps, and gullies
and ravines, to the little school-house of Chenowee at
the foot. I once rode a mule to the top of Pike's Peak,
and had a better road than down Chenowee.

We found the school-house full of serious men and
women and bright, pretty children. Their eyes and faces
were fresh and bright and comely, painted by the pure
mountain air, and water, and sunshine.

Our faithful mission teacher, Miss Emma Withers,
had walked three miles from Elkatawa, after teaching
her own Sabbath school. Miss Mary Robertson, just
arrived from Paris, Texas, came with her, and helped
"Proctor Bill" lead the singing. I preached the best I
could, and they listened better, for it was newer to them
than it was to me.

They were glad to know that they were to have a Sab-
bath school, and such a fine teacher as Miss Mary
Robertson. She began her school Monday morning.
For the present, she will teach only till noon, so the
children can go home and help in the corn crop, their
main and only dependence for bread. The Chenowee
School-house is in a Paradise of God's planting, of
great oaks, and beech trees, and mountain wild flowers.
Here Mr. Little has been gathering the untutored High-
landers in Sabbath school this spring, and preaching as
he had opportunity. It was a privilege and pleasure to
help him, and them and take God for our reward.

I am glad to say that faithful Lewis Henslcy is still

152 Galax Gatherers, and

at work in the vineyard, living on the neighboring
stream of Shoulder Blade, and doing what he can for
his Master and His lost sheep on the mountains. Have
you a part in this glorious work?

"Shall we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation ! Oh, Salvation !

The joyful sound proclaim.
Till earth's remotest nation
Has learned Messiah's name!"

"BLOODY BREATHITT."

The recent bloody record of this county probably
justifies this article. When a soldier, I several times
crossed this county, and served in the army with many
of its sons. For twenty-five years I have travelled all
over it, preaching the Gospel, and have some knowledge
of its people.

Breathitt is a large county, in the Kentucky Cumber-
lands, lying on the North and Middle Forks of the
Kentucky River. The mountains lie en masse, and not
in ranges like the southern mountains, so that the val-
leys are narrow and tortuous. The people live along
these narrow vallevs. The onlv cereal raised is corn, and
not enough of that to feed the 15,000 people who live
on it. The lack is supplied by logging, principally, and
digging ginseng and other medicinal roots, with some
stock and coal. One railroad, the Lexington and East-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 153

ern, reaches Jackson, the county seat, some one hundred
miles from the Bkie Grass capital.

When I first visited the county as evangelist, over
twenty years ago there was not a church in it of any kind,
and not a regular preacher. I preached in the court-
house at Jackson, and organized the first church there.

The village had no school-house, and no house of
worship. The county was then known as "Bloody
Breathitt," on account of deadly feuds, in which, it is
said, over a hundred men had been killed. There had
been a reign of terror following the war ; the differences
were largely political, between opposing parties during
the Civil War. The State of Kentucky sent distin-
guished judges, under escort of a heavy guard, to stop
the feud.

The Synod of Kentucky pushed its work of preaching
the Gospel of peace, organizing and building churches,
and placing educated and consecrated ministers in the
county to teach the people. They found the people
ready and willing, and even anxious to hear. Six
churches were organized in different sections of the
county, large congregations gathered and houses of wor-
ship built.

A different order of things started. The Synod estab-
lished an institute of learning at Jackson, which has
grown to be one of the largest and best in the State,
numbering hundreds of students, who are instructed in
every branch of learning, both literary and mechanical.

A handsome, new brick church succeeded the frame
one, which was burned. The Methodist brethren built
a nice frame church, and the Baptists, a brick, and the
Christian church also.

154 Galax Gatherers^ and

The town has grown in the twenty years, from a
village of some two hundred, to a well built town of
nearly two thousand, with fine brick business houses,
court-house, hotels and residences.

Twenty years ago I rode there horseback, over some
seventy-five miles of bad mountain roads. Now three
railroads enter the town; one from Lexington, and two
from neighboring counties. For years, after the ad-
vent of the church, the county was among the most
orderly, peaceful and prosperous in the State. It is a
local option county.

One may ask why this present reign of terror, with
some fifteen men killed since last December? The
reply is not so easy to give. First of all, I believe it is
largely due to the illicit selling of whiskey, or the sale
of it under government license. Most of the murders
may be traced to this prolific source of crime. Probably
bad feeling over political differences is responsible for
part of the trouble.

The mountain people are largely related to each other
by blood or marriage. Few of them ever emigrate.
They are clannish, like most Highlanders; when you
strike one, you strike the whole family and connection,
and all resent it.

The law is slow and lax in its administration, and so
the people take it into their own hands.

There is some excuse for this ; but the crying cause
back of all this violence and bloodshed is the want of
religion. The want of the Gospel of peace and forgive-
ness and love.

People must be educated to value human life; to
obey God's laws; to live peaceable and sober lives.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 155

This is what some of God's people are trying to do. It
is a big undertaking, and cannot be accompHshed at
once. A people's character cannot be changed like their
clothes. This is the humble endeavor of the Society
of Soul Winners, the America Inland Mission. This
year it had twenty-one faithful missionaries at work
in this county alone. They are godly ministers, and
consecrated women teaching the children a Gospel of
peace and good will. It is something to their credit that
not a single murder has been committed at one of these
missions, or in their neighborhood. At this time pro-
tracted meetings are being held at several of these mis-
sions, and some fifty persons have publicly confessed
Christ within a fortnight.

The Breathitt people are not heathen, nor barbarous.
There is not, in all my knowledge, a kinder, braver,
gentler people naturally. They are the soul of hospi-
tality. They have their faults, like others, and are too
prone to fight and drink. The remedy for this is the
Gospel, the only sufficient remedy for all sin and all
men.

The manifest duty of all Christians is to remedy this
state of things, by sending the Gospel to these neighbors.

It is the only transforming power on earth. I do
not undervalue other agencies, as schools, colleges, set-
tlements, or secular societies. They are all good in
their places, but are powerless when men are to be trans-
formed, and society regenerated.

The object of this society is the salvation of the moun-
tain people, not only from murder, but from all other
sins which prevail among them. It is a disgrace to
them, and to us also, if we do not help them.

156 Galax Gatherers^ and

There is money enough in the banks of the State to
revolutionize the Cumberlands, and make them an
orderly, peaceable and God-fearing people. As it is,
there are tens of thousands of them who never saw a
church, or heard a Gospel sermon they could understand.

It is a blot and shame on the good name of our be-
loved country. Let us remove it.

This society has over one hundred missionaries at
work in the mountains, and most all their support comes
from God's wise and liberal children all over the world.
These faithful, self-denying men and women are not
in town or churches, but in the "regions beyond," where
thousands are perishing in their sins.

The question is not, can they be saved without the
Gospel, but can we be saved if we do not give it to
them. Jesus answers this question in Mathew xxv,

34-46.

On which hand are you?

HIGHLAND COLLEGE.

This is the new college on the Puncheon Camp >*ieam
Breathitt County, Kentucky, which was dedicated to the
noble object of Christian education the fifteenth of July.
A great crowd of the Highlanders, from several counties,
assembled, many, doubtless, to see and hear the Governor
of Kentucky. The multitude was too large for the audi-
torium of the college, which will seat three hundred or
more, so that the exercises were held in the large and
beautiful campus. Here a thousand people heard noble ad-
dresses from Mr. Kash, the Commonwealth's Attorney;

'A

<i

as
0
y.

O
-J

Sketches of the American" Highlanders. 157

Mr. Terry, Professor Leonard, Rev. Mr. Derthick, Drs.
McCorkle, Southgate and Tyler, and the Governor of
Kentucky. From 9 A. M. until 3 P. M. the people lis-
tened with great pleasure and profit, many standing up
during the whole day. It was truly a jubilee, the first
in the Highlands. The college exercises opened on the
following Monday, with Professor Manning, and wife,
Miss Mary Pauline Abbott, Misses Ivy and ]\Iatilda
Smith, as teachers, all trained and experienced workers,
from as many States.

Though the college is situated in the midst of the
Highlands, nearly ten miles from any town or village,
surrounded by mountains, where there was neither
church or school, in two weeks it had enrolled ninety-
one pupils, and more coming every day. Some of the
children walk four miles, and are there by 7 A. M. We
have no place for them to board, or the attendance
would be doubled. Who will help us build a dormitory
for these poor children, who are so hungry to learn?
There is no such opportunity for an investment in any
gold mine or bank stock. God pays one hundred per
cent, and more, and pays it forever.

A RED LETTER DAY FOR "BLOODY
BREATHITT."

REV. DR. EMMETT W. m'cORKLE.

A brighter day never dawned on the steep slopes of
the higher Highlands than that fixed for the formal

158 Galax Gatherers, and

opening of the Puncheon Camp School, conceived and
completed by Dr. Edward O. Guerrant, with the assist-
ance of God's good people everywhere. This school is
three miles from Oakdale, on the mountain railroad, in
one of the most picturesque portions of Breathitt County.
A stream of silver wound its way along the narrow
valley. The upper slopes were green and beautiful, with
their forest hues. In the emerald mead of six acres
below, stood the school buildings, all pure and white,
significant of the character which it hopes to make
whiter than snow through the teaching of the blood of
Jesus Christ. If you can imagine rows of horses and
mules, hitched along the road, and hundreds of people
gathered near the stand under the trees, you have a
faint picture of the scene that met the eye of the
stranger on that day.

This was a glad day for all, because it witnessed the
crowning of the indefatigable labors of those faithful
workers with God's favor and blessing. One year ago,
the leaves were on the trees on the mountain-tops, that
now constitute this building. In that short time it has
been completed at a cost of more than four thousand
dollars, and without a cent of debt. It is a populous
and needy section, where there are no churches nor
schools.

It is not strange, therefore, that such an occasion
should have been thought worthy of a visit and an ad-
dress from the Chief Executive of the State, Governor
Willson. Or that a great number of friends, as well as
strangers from surrounding counties, and even from
other and different States, should have been present.
We saw an elder of the Presbyterian Church, from

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 159

§g ■■-53
Salt Lake City; also Rev. Mr. MacConagha, the prin-
cipal of the new school, now being erected by the United
Presbyterian Church, at Stanton, in Powell County,
Kentucky.

Addresses were made by Governor Willson, Rev. E.
L. Southgate, of the M. E, Church; Professor Leonard,
of the Lee's Institute of Jackson, Kentucky; Rev. J. W.
Tyler, Rev. E. W. McCorkle, Dr. Guerrant and others.
These touched the sore need of education for the people,
with the benefits to be derived therefrom by the coming
generation, as well as the necessity for loyal and enthu-
siastic support by the people.

The college building, which stands on an eminence at
the rear of the beautiful grounds, and flanked by the
two buildings for the teachers, has two stories, with
four large rooms below, and another larger room above
stairs. The rooms are equipped with modern desks and
furniture. The room above, for chapel and general
assembly purposes, is provided with an organ, maps,
charts, as well as the nucleus of a small library.

The whole plant is in charge of Professor Manning,
with a corps of three assistants, to which will soon be
added a kindergarten teacher.

The need of such an institution may be realized, when
it is remembered that in the immediate locality there are
more than two hundred children of school age. There
are two families nearby with twelve children in each.
Such an institution as this is a necessity, otherwise the
people will be almost without teaching, and especially
that of a Christian character. Their handicaps in this
way are being removed, and they are allowed to have
a fair chance with their more fortunate contemporaries

160 Galax Gatherers, and

in the vital work of house-building, home-making, and
life-making. The Herald family, which gave the land
and lumber, have been in that community since the
"thirties." One old man resides on the same spot on
which he settled sixty-six years since.

This county has a record which will go into history.
For deeds of blood, it has no equal, perhaps, in any land ;
but a new day seems to have dawned. The people have
new hopes, and are enthused with the prospect for
themselves, but especially for their children, and are
eager for schools, by which their children may be helped
to higher life than that to which their fathers have
been doomed for all these years.

The order throughout the entire day was perfect.
Sixteen of Dr. Guerrant's faithful workers were there
from other points in the vicinity. Many of these are
noble, educated, Christian women, from many States,
who are doing a good work on a meagre maintenance.
They were all present to rejoice with him in the com-
pletion of this building, which they hope will mark an
epoch in the life of their work and the Lord's. While
the work of Dr. Guerrant is undenominational and inter-
denominational, he himself is one of the most faithful
and industrious workers the Presbyterian Church has
produced in half a century. For thirty years he has
given his valuable efforts to the upbuilding of this entire
section, and no man grudges him the happiness that
has come with his toil, or the reward that will greet him
when it is ended. These people, and their children, are
grateful to him, and their blessing will ever fall upon his
head.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 161

TO THE CHILDREN IN THE CITY.

"I am glad to know you are interested in the little
Mountaineers, and I thought maybe a line about these
little Highland lads and lassies might be of some ser-
vice. Many people care nothing for them, because they
know nothing of them. For more than forty years I
have travelled among them, and know thousands of
them. They are white children. You hardly ever see a
negro in the Cumberland Mountains. They are un-
usually bright children. Mrs. Mary Hoge Wardlaw,
and, indeed, all our mission teachers, say they are the
brightest children that they ever saw. I have known
many of them to memorize three or four Catechisms in
one summer, and pages of the Bible; though they could
not read a word. The questions and answers were sim-
ply repeated to them. Many of them never saw a
church, or school, or Bible. The schools they have are
generally very poor, and many who go to them never
learn to read. Most of them are what are called "blab
schools" where all the children study out loud. They
are generally very poor. Many go barefooted all winter,
and most of them never have a good suit of clothes
We send hundreds of garments to them every year. I
have known some half grown boys to have no garment
but a long shirt. Some girls go barefooted until they
are grown. Their houses are generally very poor and
cold, and only have one or two rooms. But, in spite of
it all, they love their homes and the mountains, and
cannot be persuaded to leave them. They are anxious
to learn, and walk miles across mountains and rivers.

162 Galax Gatherers, and

I have seen children in the same class with their mothers
and grandmothers, trying to learn to read and sing, and
memorize the Catechism. They seldom get any money ;
and then by climbing over the mountains, digging gin-
seng, or gathering the galax leaves to sell. They all
have to work in the fields, even to the little girls, and
their mothers. Some have no horse to plow, and they
cultivate the mountain-sides with a hoe. Thousands o£
them never saw a doll, or heard of a Christmas tree,
until our missionaries went among them and taught
them. Some of their native preachers cannot read, and
the poor people have no way to learn, unless we send
them help. We have been trying to do this, by sending
them good men and women to teach them and help them
in every way. But there are yet thousands beyond our
missions, and we have not the money to send them help.
Though they are poor and ignorant, God loves them, and
Jesus tells us to go and tell them the "good tidings," and
save them. He says that if we love and help them, it
is the same as if we love and help Him, and He will
reward us with a kingdom in that great day coming
(Matt. XXV., 31-40). Hoping that God will honor you
by giving you a part in this blessed service, and a king-
dom in heaven for it."

THE HIGHLAND ORPHANS' HOME.

Rev. Dr. D. Clay Lilly.

The work of the Soul Winners Society has reached
that stage of development, when the need of a home for

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Sketches of the American Highlanders. 163

the orphan children of the Highlands was so evident,
that some provision of this kind could no longer be
delayed.

The prayer for means to do this was answered, and
God sent them, by the hand of a generous woman of
South Carolina, $6,000 for the purchase of a suitable
property for this work.

The society, through the president, Dr. E. O. Guer-
rant, of \Vilmore, Kentucky, began the search for a
location, and was guided to a particularly well adapted
property on a splendid site at Clay City, Kentucky.
Clay City is a good location for the work, being easily
accessible by rail, and itself, charmingly set in the
Red River Valley, with the cliff-crested mountains round
about. The site of the home is a tract of thirty acres
of beautiful plateau, well watered, as the Red River
holds it in on three sides. It is close to the city school
and churches, and a short walk to the business district.
It is, perhaps, the best located spot in Clay City.

The main house is an unusually well built, three-story
brick house, such as a man of means would build for
his own home (for it was built this way). This large
house, capable of accommodating thirty children, to-
gether with its outbuildings and thirty acres of land, was
bought at a very great bargain,

A neat dining-room, large enough for the use of a
family of fifty, has been erected near Irving Hall, the
main building.

It was this property, which a party of about twenty-
five from Lexington, Winchester, Mt. Sterling, Wilmore
and Troy, went up to Clay City Thursday, the 27th of
August, to dedicate and formally open, for its work of

164 Galax Gatherers, and

ministry to the needy little ones of the southern
mountains.

It was a day worthy of the occasion ; bright, sweet,
equable. The people of Clay City gave us a hearty
welcome, transferring us to the home in their vehicles
and setting for us there a table, heavy laden with good
things. May this cordial expression of their good will
be answered by the benevolent care which those else-
where will bestow on the little ones gathered in the
home.

The dedicatory services were appropriate and im-
pressive, consisting of devotional exercises and remarks
by Drs. Guerrant, Irvine, and Lilly, together with a state-
?*ient by the excellent matron. Miss Nettie Patterson, as
to their immediate and prospective needs.

It was easy to see the purpose of the home. It is to
minister to that helpless and distressing form of need, an
orphan child. An orphan child arouses our sympathy
anywhere, but an orphan child in a community, where
church and school privileges are inadequate, is an object
calling for immediate help. Orphanage in such places
is sometimes close to child slavery, for it happens often,
that the little one labors, at hard work and long hours,
without remuneration of any kind, either in money,
education or affection. The home ministers to such. It
will not receive any child but from the mountains, and
will not seek in the mountains those who are already
properly provided for. Its work is to relieve a condition
which needs to be met, and to give to helpless childhood
a home, protection from what would destroy it and
nourishment for its true life. This is a purpose big

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 165

enough to sustain any enterprise, and worthy enough to
demand of us a place in our gifts and our prayers.

In looking over the property, it was easy to see that
there were some present and pressing needs. Perhaps
their most pressing one is that the house should be
furnished. The children are ready for the home, but the
home is not quite ready for them. It needs, at once,
all that would go to the furnishing of a home to make
it comfortable. What a good investment of a few dol-
lars it would be to furnish one of these several rooms
and make it ready for the needy little girls who are
ready to occupy it. Only little girls are to be received
at present.

The plan of the home contemplates the erection of a
building to be used as a domitory for boys, which is
greatly needed, but until this is provided, only girls will
be received.

Another pressing need, both of the immediate present
and of the days to come, namely, food and raiment.
These dear children are not to go hungry. Let every
one, with the Lord's money in keeping, remember that
blue grass fields, with their fat cattle, myriad acres of
hemp and tobacco and wheat; of cotton and corn and
cane, vast reaches of timbered hills, filled with a wealth
of coal and iron, sleep, basking in the southern sun;
these are enough that no helpless child need lie hungry
through the night's slow moving. And brave and devoted
men and women, who love the Lord, are the guarantee
that they will not be naked and unclothed, or ahungered
and unfed.

If one good woman, in the "City by the Sea," has
given the home, cannot many good men and women

166 Galax Gatherers, and

throughout this land take up the work and carry it on,
thus rendering effective her gift, as well as their own?

One part of the church's commission is, to "feed the
lambs" of the Good Shepherd. The spirit of this com-
mand, is much akin to the spirit of His life of unselfish
service. We cannot be really like Him, unless we obey
His command, that is so much like Him.

FEED MY LAMBS.

No one who ever travelled through the Allegheny or
Cumberland Mountains failed to notice the swarms of
bright children which met him everywhere. Probably
few ever heard of a home for the scores of these help-
less children left orphans amid such sorrowful sur-
roundings. Every city is provided with such institu-
tions ; but here is a vast region of country, an empire
of mountains, with four million of white people, and
thousands of the poorest orphans, with practically no
place to save them. The result is they are lost to their
country and to God. To save the multitudes of these
bright Highland children is the first duty of both citizens
and Christians. Phillips Brooks well said: "He who
helps a child, helps humanity with a distinctness and im-
mediateness which no other help given to human crea-
tures, in any other stage of life, can possibly give again."
For years the cry of these orphans has been ringing in
our ears. For years we have prayed and hoped for help
to save them. Through these years we have received
some help from the hands of charitable people, but never
enough to provide a home ; until, at last God inspired

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Sketches of the American Highlanders. 167

a noble woman to give us six thousand dollars to found
the Highland Orphans Home. We lost no time in secur-
ing the best property for the purpose in the Cumberland
Mountains. It lies in the suburbs of Clay City, on the
Lexington and Eastern Railroad, a large, substantial
brick residence, with thirty acres of beautiful land. The
building is ample for the accommodation of thirty chil-
dren. It will be devoted to the care of the orphan girls.
We need now a similar home for the boys, and a chapel
and dining-hall, with suitable furniture for them all. Of
course, this home will accommodate only a tithe of the
poor waifs in the great mountains. Dr. Campbell says,
"We need ten such institutions." But one is better than
none. It is a start, and God will provide the rest. Our
mission teachers report hundreds of these helpless chil-
dren all through the vast wilderness of mountains from
Virginia to Georgia.

Already they are begging for our help. Shall they beg
in vain? Your answer will determine your destiny at
the judgment day (See Matt, xxv, 31-46). We want
your help now to build a dormitory and dining-hall this
summer. Every cent shall go to this object. Did God
ever give a better opportunity to glorify Him and enrich
yourself? Send your offering to the president of the
Soul Winners' Society, Rev. Dr. E. O. Guerrant, Wilmore,
Kentucky, or to the treasurer. Major Robert S. Bullock,
cashier of Fayette National Bank, Lexington, Kentucky.

"He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the
Lord, and that which he hath given, will He pay him
again." — Prov. xix, 17.

"He built a house; time laid it in the dust;
He wrote a book ; its title was forgot ;

168 Galax Gatheeers, and

He ruled a city ; but his name is not
On any tablet graven, or where rust
Can gather from disuse, or marble bust.
He took a child from out a wretched cot,
Who on the State dishonor might have brought.
And reared him to the Christian's hope and trust.

The boy, to manhood grown, became a light
To many souls, and preached for human need,
The wondrous love of the Omnipotent.
The work has multiplied like stars at night
When darkness deepens. Every noble deed
Lasts longer than a granite monument."

THE ORPHAN CHILD.

"My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary;
Long is the way, and the mountains so wild ;
Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary
Over the path of the poor Mountain child.

"Why did they send me so far and so lonely,

Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are piled ?
Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels, only.
Watch over the steps of the poor Orphan child.

"Yet distant and soft, the night breeze is blowing.
Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild ;
God in His mercy, protection is showing

Comfort and hope to the poor Orphan child.

"Even should I fall o'er the broken-bridge passing.
Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,
Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,
Take to His bosom the poor Orphan child.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 169

"There is a thought, that for strength should avail me,
Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled;
Heaven is a Home, and rest will not fail me,
God is a friend to the poor Orphan child."

FUNERALS IN THE HIGHLANDS.

Probably in nothing are the Highlanders so peculiar
as in their burial of the dead. I never saw a graveyard
in a valley. They bury on the hills and sometimes on
the top of mountains.

They do not often have the funeral at the time of death,
but sometimes years afterwards, and generally in the
fall of the year. I remember once preaching the funeral
of a man who had been dead fourteen years. This sum-
mer, the funeral of four soldiers, who died during the
war, forty-five years ago, was preached on the Quicksand.

One old Highlander incorporated it in his will, that
such a service in his memory should be held every year,
and it has been faithfully done for many years.

The services often begin on Friday and close on Sun-
day evening. All friends and relatives are invited to
attend, and the preaching is done by half a dozen native
preachers.

Such an occasion takes precedence over every other
service. Paul himself could hardly get a congregation in
the neighborhood of a Highland funeral. I once knew
General Howard to have only half a dozen hearers on
such a day. So he mounted his horse and went to a
funeral on a mountain-side, where there were hundreds
of people.

170 Galax Gatherers, and

During the funeral season, which comes in the fall of
the year, when the roads and weather are favorable for
out-door services, it is almost impossible to have other
meetings.

I recently preached a good woman's funeral, two years
after her death, at the grave, on a mountain-top, when
her husband conducted the singing and other parts of
the service, and his second wife was present.

Some years ago, I preached a man's funeral during a
protracted meeting, and his widow and second husband
and children sat on the front bench. These things did
not seem to excite any comment, for they were not much
out of the ancient order.

THE BURIAL ON PUNCHEON CAMP.

Twenty-one years ago I passed up this little mountain
stream in the wild Cumberlands. It was a week-day
morning, but the Highlanders, warned of my coming,
filled a vacant house to hear the Gospel, where there
was no church. Among a score who occupied it were
two beautiful little girls, sisters, clad in Highland plaid.

The years rolled by, and they grew to beautiful woman-
hood, married, and made homes of their own. But death,
which "loves a shining mark," struck down one of them,
and on Saturday morning, a great concourse of her
kindred and friends, laid her to rest on a mountain brow,
with a beautiful babe on her breast, among hundreds of
her people.

By a strange Providence, I was present, after twenty-
one eventful years.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 171

A multitude of mourners sat on the ground beneath a
great chestnut tree on that mountain plateau (there is
no church in that country), and heard the Gospel of love
preached by Dr. Bryan, of Birmingham, Professor Man-
ning and myself. "Proctor Bill" and Louis Hensley,
who taught the Sabbath school twenty-one years before,
were there, and led the singing in the plaintive melody of
the Highlanders, which is heard nowhere else.

The grief of these simple-hearted people broke forth
in most pitiful cries, which moved the oldest and hardest
of men. Indeed, I never witnessed such an exhibition of
sorrow, as they clung to the coffin and kissed the cold
silent lips, still beautiful in death.

On that wild mountain-top, with God and the dead
generations of their ancestors, one felt nearer to heaven
than in the world below.

These poor people lack most of the blessings of civili-
zation, but they have more of God and nature, which com-
pensates for what they lose in culture and comfort.

No people appreciate the Gospel more, for none need
it so much. It is light in their darkness, strength in their
weakness, joy in their sorrow. To them it is really the
"Good News of God."

TWO HIGHLAND FUNERALS.— IN THE GREAT

SMOKIES.

Mrs. Mary O'Rear Everett.

"Could you-uns come to the funeral? They're thar
now." I was startled by seeing a neighbor in the door

l'J'3 Galax Gatherers, and

making this request. I had heard of the untimely death
of an infant, but this was the first hint that our presence
was desired. Miss Smith was not able to go, so hastily
changing my dress, and with a few directions from her,
I hurried away to conduct my first funeral. I had an
Episcopal prayer-book in my hand, and searched for the
order for the burial of the dead, as I hastened along, my
heart quaking over this new undertakng. How earnestly
I prayed for help; I do so desire to teach these people,
as shy and hard to win as the wild birds of the forest^
almost ; and while their hearts are tender in the presence
of death, seems a good time to win them.

It was more than a mile from the home to the grave-
yard on the hillside. There they were patiently waiting as
I drew near. The school-house was a few yards away, and
the school teacher and children were clustered around.
The early morning sunshine filtered through the leaves.
The kind neighbors had borne the little casket on their
shoulders from the home, three miles away, to lay it
among its kindred. We sang "Jesus Lover of My Soul."
The father sobbed as if he needed such a refuge. The
next week he must appear at court. Then as the service
proceeded, the Lord strengthened and helped, and once
more I proved that when He requires anything of us,
any work. He gives us strength to do it. Just at the last,
the casket was opened. It was made of pine just to fit
the baby, and covered with white muslin, fringed around
the edge of the lid with scissors. Over the baby's face
was a square of white cambric, cut in a fanciful way with
the scissors. When this was removed we saw a beauti-
ful child, very handsome, large and fine, but he had
closed his eyes in death as soon as he had opened them on

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 173

this earth. And so we laid him away to rest, the sun-
shine, the birds and the children, making a sweet picture.

I urged the father to try and live so as to meet his
baby, and he seemed impressed. He seems to be a good
husband and father, and brings his children all the way
to Sunday school when possible.

The next funeral was that of the old man in the "settle-
ment." It was a wild, stormy morning, the first very bad
winter day, sometimes raining and then snowing, the
cheerless moaning autumn wind wrenching the last leaves
off the trees and whirling them away.

The yard was full of men as we came near. The
women were in the house, the doors wide open, and a chill-
ing wind was sweeping through. All who could, were
gathered around the fire-place, the mothers with their
little children and babies. It was a dreary looking place
with uneven puncheon floor. The walls were dark and
smoky, the low, grimy ceiling had rags hanging from the
pieces that go across, that brush our heads. There were
heaps of rags in the corner of the room, and piles of corn
and barrels.

On the floor, in the center of the room, was the coffin
made by friendly hands out of pine boards, covered with
black calico and lined with white. The old man lay there
in his last, long sleep, with a composure and dignity that
only death can give. His long white beard swept his
chest, and almost hid the ornaments that they had pinned
on his coat — stick-pin, flag and badge, "God is our Trust
and Confidence." His overcoat and hat were laid over
him, and his wife's apron was tucked in at his feet.

We had helped by giving some clothing that came from
Washington, to lay him out in. The mourners were

174 Galax Gatherers, and

gathered near, but you could not guess who they were
by their apparel. The nearest mourner was a niece that
he had raised, a woman thirty-eight years old, the mother
of ten children.

This time we had a good quartette of singers who sang
songs. With more confidence, I went on with the service,
telling of the last good talk I had with "Uncle Tom,"
when he expressed himself to be so happy to be so near
his heavenly home, and urged the parents to get ready,
and train their children for that heavenly home. What a
scene, the men, outside in the rain, and the children
grouped around the coffin, some of them sobbing piti-
fully all the time.

Then the niece threw herself down by the coffin and
wailed and talked to the dead. A neighbor began to sing a
long dirge, which appeared to be an exhortation from
the dead to the living, comforting the mourning, exhort-
ing the Christian and warning the sinner. He chanted
on and on, till I wondered when he would cease. But
finally he did, and then they brought a hammer and nailed
the lid on the coffin, and we climbed the mountain back
of the house to lay him beside his faithful wife, who died
eight months before.

The wind had increased to a hurricane almost, and the
rain had changed to sleet and snow. We had to make
many stops to get our breath. Many of the children were
bare-headed, and some bare-footed. The babies suffered
most, though we tried to shield them. The storm was a
howling tempest by the time we reached the grave, and
I doubt if any one heard a word of prayer, or "Ashes to
ashes, dust to dust," etc. We were forced to leave and
seek shelter. If it was not for the mission homes through

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 175

the mountains, many, perhaps most of the dead, would
be buried without a prayer or comforting passage from
God's Word. Perhaps, you think the home I described
is very dismal ; but it is not nearly as bad as many that
have no ceiling, and cracks all around that you can stick
your arm through, if not your head. The door stands
open the very coldest days. I have discovered this
through visiting this winter.

Now what can you and I do to help do away with this
distress and sin?

A TOUR THROUGH THE CUMBERLANDS.

I

On a hot August day, I started to the Cumberlands
through Menefee County. By a misunderstanding no
conveyance met me at the terminus of the little narrow-
gauge railroad. So, like Paul, "I took up my carriage"
(knapsack and overcoat), and walked over the mountain
five miles, to Frenchburg. It was warm, but I reached
the village just in time to preach to a house crowded
with a most attentive congregation, including nearly every
school teacher in the county, for the Teachers' Institute
was in session in the town.

Things were mightily changed since I organized this
little church in the old court-house a little over two years
ago. Then, we had just light enough to see how to talk;
now a nice chandelier enabled us to read without "specs."

Then, the only organ was a crying baby; now a hand-
some organ, skilfully played by a young lady, led a full
chorus of singers.

176 Galax Gatherers, and

Then, dear old Grandmother Ward constituted the
Presbyterian Church of Menefee County, elders, deacons,
members and all; now a church of some seventy-five
members, with some faithful officers, assist the old lady
in holding up the Cross above the mountains. This is
the "Alexander Memorial Church," named in honor of
its generous elder patron.

The next morning Brother Mickel and I talked to the
Teachers' Institute by invitation, and as we had both
been pedagogues, we felt at home with the "rule and the
ferule." The Institute was composed of a fine body of
young ladies and gentlemen, and was presided over by
a prince of teachers, Professor Hayes. At 12 M. Brother
Mickel and I started on to Hazel Green, in Wolfe
County, to meet an appointment that night.

The little mountain "hack" was too full to take us up
the mountain from Frenchburg, and so we walked two
and a half miles to the top, and there got seats for the
remaining twenty miles. The roads were very rough
and the day hot, but we reflected that both were more
pleasant than many that our fathers knew. The day was
not a "fiery furnace," nor the road the "Via Dolorosa."

Everywhere we noticed the marks of improvement,
the advance of a better civilization among the mountains.
Churches were going up along the road, new fields opened
and new houses built, of a better construction than the
old log-cabins. Then we knew that the best educator of
a people is the Christian religion.

We reached Hazel Green, the gem of the mountain
towns, about dark. This beautiful village lies in a great
basin on the Upper Red River, with a rim of green moun-
tains around it, like a picture frame. The good people

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 177

were anxiously awaiting our coming, and the Nicholas-
ville bell summoned a full house to hear Brother Mickel,
their former pastor, preach a good sermon. Everybody
here loves him for his own sake and his faithful work
among them.

A few years ago there was only an unfinished church
in this pretty town ; now it has three handsome and com-
fortable churches. Then, there were only about three
Presbyterians in the county ; now, some fifty, with a good
organization and some most devoted members. This
little vine owes very much to the faithful efiforts and
earnest prayers of Colonel Robert Samuel and his de-
voted wife. On her invitation, I first visited this field,
and organized this church in the school-house. God will
reward them.

On Saturday I preached morning and evening, and
five women united with our church after the evening
service. Brother Mickel remained to preach over the
Sabbath, and I went on to Bethsalem, in Morgan County,
where I preached on the Sabbath to a congregation too
large for the church ; so we held the services in God's
first temple beneath the spreading branches of a beautiful
grove. Two years ago, we had no church here, and no
members. Now we have a large comfortable church and
about fifty members. The old log house, without doors,
windows, seats, or ceiling, in which we organized the
church, is now replaced by a handsome frame building,
capable of seating some three hundred people, built,
owned and occupied harmoniously by the Baptists, Re-
formers and Presbyterians. "Behold how good and how
pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity."

Brother Mickel came out on Monday, and the people

178 Galax Gatherers, and

petitioned for three services a day. So we preached at
10 A. M., 3 P. M. and 7 P. M., and scores of them walked
(riding is a luxury to many up here) to every service and
carried their babies.

Hov/ I pity those poor brethren who never enjoy such
a privilege of feeding the hungry.

It is no trouble to feed those who are not afflicted with
a kind of spiritual dyspepsia. Their digestion is unim-
paired, and they rejoice in the strong meat of the Chris-
tian doctrine. These mountain people make religion a
matter of business, instead of a recreation, as so many do.

On Wednesday we had to leave in order to meet our
appointment in Breathitt County. Besides, Brother
Mickel, the former faithful pastor of these churches, we
had with us his faithful covx'orker, Rev. James M.
Little, born and reared among these mountains, and
whose services have been invaluable to our cause. He
says he was a Presbyterian long before he ever saw one,
or heard a sermon by a Presbyterian preacher. Learned
to be one by reading the Bible. I need not say he is a
good one.

We crossed the mountain dividing the waters of the
Red River from the Upper Kentucky, and rode down
the frozen stream to the North Fork of Kentucky River,
where Mr. Mickel preached at night in the little school-
house on White Oak, to a little company, by three little
lamps without chimneys. Few men could preach such a
sermon by electric light.

The night was dark, the roads rough, the mountains
high, so we appointed both services for daylight, 10 A. M.
and 4 P. M. Word having gone out of our arrival, the
house was filled with an eager, anxious congregation,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 179

hungry for the bread of life, many of whom walked
miles to church. A year or two ago there were only one
or two Presbyterians in this county ; now we have a
church of some seventy members, with fine officers,
and a good sum made up to build a house of worship.

GLEN ATHOL.

The following letter from that admirable Christian
lady, Mrs. Mary Hoge Wardlaw, will give a better idea
of the work of the America Inland Mission than
volumes of speculation by strangers to the work.

For some twenty years Mrs. Wardlaw vv'as a missionary
in South America, and by gifts and graces, is exception-
ally well qualified to give the results of experience.

She is one of thirty-five such noble lady teachers sent
and supported by the society in the darkest regions of the
Cumberland and Allegheny Mountains. God and eternity
alone can compass the beneficial results of such work.
Have you any part in it?

"It was my pleasure to spend a summer in the mission
work of the Society of Soul Winners, under Dr. Guer-
rant. In this work, we lived very close to nature, the
nature that reveals itself in mountain, glen and forest,
and the nature that characterizes their unsophisticated
inhabitants.

Several mountains converging, formed a sheltered
nook, the site of our summer home. It seemed to us as
if a motherly old mountain had taken the cottage in its
lap, and encircled it with its arms. All about us were

180 Galax Gathekers^ and

trees, three century-old giant oaks, with waving shadows,
superb beeches, noble walnut and hickory. Back of us
a narrow ravine, deepened to a spring, set around with
ferns. Climbing up we reached a cove, and the Indian
grave, which crowned the mountain.

In the afternoons, as we sat in the broad, shady porch,
that was school-room, and living-room, rarely a sound
was heard, save the breeze stirring the branches, or the
notes of the wood robin, the cardinal or the mocking bird.
Occasionally a cow, lowing in the distance, would be-
speak an owner, or from the steep mountain opposite, a
plowman's voice would ring out, as he urged on his horse
at each precipitous turning; but for these chance re-
minders of humanity, we would almost believe that we
were dwelling in a little world of our own, and could
truly say:

"Ah, this peace ! I have no need
Of friend to talk, or book to read."

And this spot, on the border of Breathitt, twelve miles
from Jackson, was the scene of our summer's work.

On that roomy porch, every morning, except Saturday,
the children gathered for lessons. School "took up" at
eight, but by seven or a Httle after, the pink and blue
sunbonnets, and peaked hats began to stream up the two
paths that led to Glen Athol. Then the wearers of caps
and felt hats (few of the boys possessed straw ones),
scrambled and scampered, shouting and hallooing, down
the mountain's side. Many of them had been at work
since daylight, and would work for six hours more,
and that brief playtime was highly prized. But at 8
o'clock they took their seats on the home-made benches,

Sketches of the American" Highlanders. 181

the girls at one end of the porch and the boys at the
other, ready to enter, with shining, eager faces into the
opening exercises.

They sang, each day, more hymns than many a Sunday
school, recited more Catechism and Bible verses, and all
with a joy, an enthusiasm, refreshing to the heart of the
teacher. Then, when the Bible story was told, accom-
panied by the illustrated chart on the wall, they drank
in every word, often leaning forward in their seats, not
to lose a syllable, and asking questions which proved at
once their interest and intelligence. After the religious
instruction, which consumed fully one-half of the time,
came countless reading lessons, with spelling, arithmetic
and geography, and before separating, another hymn and
a Bible verse to go home on.

A brighter, more receptive set of children I never
taught. The little mountaineers love school. Their
minds seem to thirst for knowledge, and warmly do
their hearts go out to those who impart it. They seem
never to have heard that school is sometimes considered
a penance. Certainly no such view is held by those who
attend the schools established by Dr. Guerrant. They
appreciate the love that prompts the sending and the
going. They were attentive, respectful, and obedient;
more docile, more serious-minded than any other children
I ever knew, yet merry and playful at the right time. The
little girls were, many of them, pretty, and there were
fine faces among the boys. They repaid study, both as
individuals and as scholars. Along with the traits already
mentioned, they possess a sturdy independence, a self-
reliance, a faithfulness to duty that reminds one of their
Scotch ancestry. Many of the children, big as well as

l82 Galax Gatherers^ and

little, girls as well as boys, have to work in the corn-fields ;
one might say, upon the corn mountains. At one time,
my school was slim until the corn was "laid by," that is,
until it had received its second hoeing. Even young girls
work all day long, under the hot June sun, preserving
nevertheless, the delicate pink and white of their com-
plexions, which goes so well with the deep mountain blue
of their eyes. Some of the girls were decidedly pretty,
attractive and gentle-mannered. We were in the land of
"Melissy," "Zerildy," and "Meriky" (America), the land
where girls frequently marry at sixteen, and are there-
after pronounced "old women." Often tragic experiences
await them. As the mission-schools increase, a larger
number of sweet and interesting girls there will come
under the beneficial influence, their minds will be stimu-
lated, their horizon broadened, and marriage will not be
rushed into so thoughtlessly.

I said the children came every day but Saturday; yet
rarely a Saturday came without a gathering of the little
folks upon one project or another. It might be milk, or
berries to sell ; a present of beans, an offer to catch, for
our Sunday dinner, a couple of our chickens, which
roamed the mountain-side, or to cut wood for us. On
Sunday, a delegation was generally in waiting to escort
us to the "church-house," and again at 3 P. M. they as-
sembled on the porch, for our home-Sunday school. They
were content to sit silent, gazing and listening, while
others gave free expressions to their quaint, often
pathetic ideas and aspirations.

At the close of our summer's work, we felt that the
gain had been ours. We had spent several months in a
pure, invigorating climate, among a courteous, kindly,

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 183

generous people. We learned to love them, to enjoy our
intercourse with these friendly, quick-witted moun-
taineers, who appreciate beyond its worth, our labors
for their children.

The last day of school they begged to sing all the
hymns they knew; they sang them, too, but the singing
and the sobbing blended almost indistinguishably.

The workers from our home taught in four different
missions schools, two of our number residing with moun-
tain families. On Sunday there were five of us teach-
ing six different Sabbath schools. The three of us who
lived at Glen Athol, teaching twice on Sabbath, the ab-
sent ones at least once. We learned of the workings of
other missions all through the mountains, and every-
where the work presented the same characteristics.
Everywhere the true-hearted mountaineers became
warmly attached to the missionaries. The Bible is read,
education appreciated, their views become deepened,
widened and spiritualized.

It is the solution of the mountain problem. When Dr.
Guerrant comes and preaches straight into the hearts of
the people, or when he brings other eminent preachers,
they find intelligent, appreciative audiences.

Where the preachers have not gone, or can go but
seldom, this Gospel teaching, day by day, is drawing hun-
dreds into the fold.

May all Christian people combine, as never before, to
strengthen the hands and encourage the hearts of all
who are engaged in this noble and God-given mission of
winning souls for Christ.

184 Galax Gatherers^ and

A UNIQUE CONTEST.

Three of the mission schools in the Cumberland Moun-
tains had a big Catechism contest last month, which was
a most interesting and successful exhibition.

During the spring and summer they had studied most
diligently for the prizes offered for the best recitations
of the Catechisms and Scriptures and singing and drill-
ing. Six excellent lady teachers had taught the three
schools with great earnestness and fidelity.

The contest was held at the Central School, at Crocketts-
ville, on the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River. The
day was lovely, and by 8 A. M. crowds of men, women
and children began coming in wagons, on horseback and
on foot. Some two hundred and fifty children came from
the three schools, in uniforms made by their lady
teachers. The pretty mountain valley was alive with red
caps and plaid dresses, and vocal with shouts and songs
of merry crowds, who never saw the like before. The
contest was held in the Crockettsville Presbyterian
Church, the only church those poor children ever saw.
Professor Gordon, of Lexington, Mr. Johnson and Mr.
Gleghorn, evangelists, were the judges.

From 10 A. M. until 4 P. M. the contest waged. It is
safe to say such singing was never heard in the mountains
before, nor such recitations of Scripture and Catechisms.
The schools were examined in turn, and each strove to
out-sing and out-repeat the other. The performance was
more remarkable when it is known that these children
never had a chance before, and many of them could not

iil'. .'

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 185

read. It exhibited the brightness of the children, and the
excellence of the teaching.

The church could not hold even the children, and hun-
dreds of men and women stood outside and wondered,
and admired the strange performance. The judges were
compelled to shorten the examinations, which consumed
the whole day. One school repeated four Catechisms.
The drill of the schools were most remarkable and inter-
esting. They went through difficult evolutions like
veterans, many of them barefooted, on the rocks. They
belong to a martial race, the old Scotch Highlanders.
The day passed off rapidly and cheerfully, with not a
single fight over the contest, a most remarbable occur-
rence in this country.

The awarding of prizes was no easy matter. Each
school had done excellently in every contest, but the
judges decided that the Canoe School, taught by Mrs.
Kate Robards, Mrs. Stewart and Miss Mary Scrogin,
deserved the prize for best recitations of Scripture and
Catechism ; the Crockettsville School, taught by Mrs,
Emily and Miss Eliza Gordon, for the best singing, and
the Gross Camp School, taught by Misses Erastes Balee
and Louise Saunders, for the best drilling.

The prizes were a handsome banner of the Cross, forty-
five pounds of candy, a large box of cakes and a half-
barrel of crackers, and plenty of lemonade. It was a
great day for the mountain people, and the children, and
the church, and Christ. Seeds were sown which will
bear fruit in heaven, through eternity.

This work is carried on by the Society of Soul Win-
ners, under the immediate superintendence of Rev Dr.
Miles Saunders, assisted by Mr. Elias L. Moore, who

186 Galax Gatherers^ and

preach at each of the three points regularly. The lady
teachers were sent from Central Kentucky and supported
by the society. Dr. Guerrant was present at the contest
and greatly enjoyed it. The schools are still in progress,
and many of the children have accepted Christ. May
we ask your prayers and help in this great work?

A WORD FROM PROF. GORDON,
Of Lexington, Kentucky.

The writer was one of a party, which left the blue
grass on one of the last days of sultry August and hied
away to the fern-decked, vine-clad hills of Eastern Ken-
tucky, to be a looker-on at a contest among the assem-
bled clans of that dauntless region.

The day seemed to open propitiously for the trip, as the
sun rose bright and the sky was clear; but this fair
promise proved only a delusion and a snare. Before the
afternoon had reached its turning, the heavens quickly
darkened above us, and in a little while the bottom seemed
to fall out of the reservoirs in the sky, and the waters
came down as they do at Lodore, and nearly drowned us
in our open wagon ; but the journey came to an end with
the day, and, thanks to as faithful and sturdy a pair of
mules as ever dug toes into a mountain road, and to the
coolness and skill of a driver, trained amid the slippery
slants and dark declivities, the jolting ledges and perilous
washouts of that region, the falling shadows found us at
the mouth of our particular "creek," and the quickened
pace of our faithful dumb servants told us that they and

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 187'

we were not far from "home." What a country ! What a
people ! What faithful plucky dumb brutes ! It is worth
the trip and the "ducking," many times over, to see and
know them.

Before we reached our destination, we were challenged
by the eager denizens to turn in for the night and seek
the rest, for which the shades of evening and the un-
usual experiences of the day, had fully prepared us.

Next morning one would have known, without previ-
ous warning, that something was going to happen.
Everybody and everything was astir early. Some of the
people came twelve or fifteen miles to a friendly rivalry,
in recitation of the pure Word of God, and of the
Catechisms, and in the singing of the sweet songs of
Zion, followed by calistenics, Delsarte and military drills.

Time would fail to tell how they gathered, on foot,
on horseback, often riding three on one horse, and by the
wagon-load, each valley contributing its quota to the
gathering crowd, until many times more than could be
packed into the beautiful little church, had assembled on
the ground, and time would fail again, to half-way tell
of the contest, how they sang, and how they recited Creed,
and Prayer, and Beatitudes, and Pslams, and Catechism,
with a zeal and intelligence, and gracious rivalry, until
even the pleased and happy ear grew weary with the
effort to take it all in, and the imagination faltered at
the contemplation of the possible result under the bless-
ing of God. "What will the harvest be?" Suffice it to say,
that the writer never saw or heard the equal of that con-
test, a contest participated in by all ages- of both sexes,
from the piping alto of the little tots, scarce out of swad-
dling clothes, through the sweet soprano of the lads and

188 Galax Gatherers, and

lassies, who sometimes, in our more favored lands, feel
themselves above such occupation, on through the touch-
ing tenor and deeper bass, which betoken that the con-
test is not felt to be beneath the participation of the man-
liest portion of these primitive communities. The
writer saw children not over five or six years old, eagerly
joining in the recitations ; he saw a mother dandling a
two months' old babe aloft on her hands to keep it quiet,
while she kept fully abreast of the foremost in the long
recitations, and he saw, at least, one patriarch, who
looked as if he might have been grandsire to most of the
audience, vieing with the most vigorous in making as-
surance doubly sure that his school would not be left
behind in the contest. Where else on earth could such a
sight be seen?

And now the prizes have been awarded, and the sun,
hanging far to the west, warns the distant riders that
they must be on their way. After some touching parting
words, and a benediction, followed by three cheers, again
and again repeated, in honor of those who had been in
any way connected with the pleasure and the success of
the occasion, that large assemblage quietly melted away,
as it had assembled, with not one slightest event to mar
the almost holy pleasure of the day.

It was good to be there, and when the rolling years
shall bring a return of the day, may the writer and many
another, be permitted to share in its sacred joy.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 189

PENTECOST AT PUNCHEON CAMP.

Eev. James A. Bryan, BirmingTiam, Ala.

Early Monday morning, September the fourteenth, I
left my work in Birmingham, Alabama, for a ten days'
preaching tour in the Cumberland Mountians with Dr.
Guerrant.

We spent a few hours at the Highland Orphans' Home,
at Clay City, Kentucky. The writer never saw a more
beautiful place for such a home, and from what he saw
of the work of ten days in the mountains, there never
was a country where one was more needed. A boys'
dormitory is also needed. We pray that God will inspire
some of His servants to supply this need.

From there we went through the Grand Canon of the
Red River to "Bloody Breathitt" County. Leaving the
railroad at Oakdale, we rode four miles across dark
mountains, reaching the Highland College in time for a
prayer-meeting in a cottage of one of the lady teachers.
In the silence of that evening, far from my home and
church, in that quiet little mountain cottage, I felt a
deeper sympathy for the real missionary than ever be-
fore. O, that the heart of the church could be touched
by the spirit of God to pray more, and give more to send
the light to our perishing countrymen ! This is one of the
three colleges which h.ave been established by the Soul
Winners' Society.

Early Wednesday morning, crowds of poorly clad boys
and girls gathered from far and near, some walking four

190 Galax Gatherers^ and

miles to the school, eager to learn. The services were
held daily at 8 A. M. and 3 P. M., and twice at night, in
the chapel of the college. One could see from the first
service that the main object of this school was to save
lost souls and educate them. This chapel is the only
place for public worship for miles. Many of the parents
and friends of the pupils came to both services.

One woman told me that before the Soul Winners came
to this place, there was no sermon preached in this neigh-
borhood for eight years. Friday afternoon a number ac-
cepted Christ. Saturday was a blessed day. God heard
our prayers and all rejoiced.

On Sabbath the meetings began at nine, and continued
throughout the day. The strongest men and women cried
for pardon, and received it. People wept for joy as
friends confessed Christ. Great strong men would rise
up, and moved by God's spirit, would say, "I believe God,
for Christ's sake, has pardoned my sins."

Some of the leading men of the neighborhood, once
profane swearers and intemperate, cried out for pardon,
and enrolled their names among God's people.

The man who gave the land to build the college on was
saved, and said, 'T thank God that Dr. Guerrant and you
brought light here for us." One dear little boy, attend-
ing this school and revival services, said: "Poppy Bill
can drink whiskey if he will ; I am going to trust Christ
for salvation and join the church." Truly this was the
gate of heaven.

All this is of God ; to Him be all the praise. I visited
the humble homes of these people and read and prayed
with them. They are the most grateful people I ever
met.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 191

One woman, speaking to me, said: "A great change
has come over "Buckeye"; he has not cursed since last
Friday."

Many of these children have the very brightest minds.
The faithful teachers of the school pray with them and
are teaching them that to be a Christian is to trust God
and be good men and women. This whole mountain
neighborhood, once so desperate, is being transformed by
God, through the work of the Soul Winners, from dark-
ness to light. As you walk or ride the mountain paths,
you hear then singing: "At the Cross, at the Cross,
where I first saw the light," and "When the Roll is
Called Up Yonder, I'll be There."

Writing in the yard of this humble mountaineer's
home, I cannot tell you of the beautiful scenery. Some
one has said, "It is the fmest East of the Rocky Moun-
tains."

But I am to tell you of the souls in this region, for
whom Christ died, that need the message of pardon and
peace through Christ. Will you pray for them, and help
these faithful missionaries?

A GIRL'S TRIP TO THE FAR CUMBERLANDS.

Dear Anne:

"I know you want to hear about my last trip to the
mountains ; so I will drop you a line while I rest. Papa
wanted me to go along to help sing.

"At Lexington, we were fortunate to meet Rev. Mr.
Paxson and wife from Texas, who were going to help in
our missions at Glencairn and Torrent. Mrs. Paxson

192 Galax Gatherers, and

was delighted to get back to old Kentucky, even to the
mountains. Probably she will be glad to get back to
Texas after Glencairn.

"At Athol we stopped to see Mr. and Mrs. Auld, who
were living in the cottage, and working in the mission
there. They seemed to be happy, though it must have
been a big change from Florida, where the land is flat, to
the Cumberlands, where it is perpendicular. Mr. Auld
has had new shutters put on the church, and glass in the
windows, and preaches every Sunday.

"That night we went on to Elkatawa in an awful flood.
The creeks got so high I couldn't go up to Miss Withers',
the missionary from Virginia, who lives half a mile from
Elkatawa, so a lady let me stay with her. Papa and Mr.
McBride slept on the floor of a little house down by the
creek. Papa said it was a better bed than he had in the
army in Virginia, but he is older now, and I was sorry
he didn't have a bed. Mr. McBride, our missionary here,
is working away on Kessler Chapel, our new church. It
is in a beautiful situation, overlooking the little village
and valley, and surrounded by mountains. It is the first
and only church here. The Mormons have been around
here and some people joined them. I think it is a shame.

Early the next morning we got two mountain ponies
and started to Buckhorn, twenty-six miles across the
mountains. Mine was the best pacer, but so lazy he
wore me out, and I tried to wear him out. We passed
Mrs. Andrews' mission at the White Pine. She and
Mrs. Withers are certainly workers. They walk all over
these mountains visiting, teaching and singing the gos-
pel. Up Cane Creek we met a wagon between the
steep mountains and had to turn back because the wagon

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 193

filled all the road. The sun rose at 9 o'clock, and I
never saw a lovelier morning-, beneath the great forest
trees and vines. On the top of Shoulder Blade Moun-
tain, I took a picture of the miles and miles of beautiful
mountains. At Miss Ellen Callahan's school, on Shoulder
Blade, we saws lots of nice children all dressed in red
and blue, jumping a grapevine rope. They were as
happy as the children in Lexington, but had no church
or preacher. I was sorry for them.

Well, we had a long, hot ride up the river to Canoe.
At Mr. Sam. Callahan's we got a good dinner and sent
our horses back to Elkatawa. Charley Callahan got an
old mule and a little wagon and drove us up to Crock-
ettsville, about eight miles, along the beautiful Kentucky
River. Crockettsville is only a post-office. Here I had
to stop for want of a horse, but papa went on over the
mountain to Buckhorn to preach that night. I know
he was tired enough after such a ride. He sent for me
the next morning. We had to climb a mountain called
Bunker Hill, which was the worst I ever saw. At 9
o'clock I reached the Log College, and it is beautiful.
It sets on a mountain brow, opposite the church on
Laurel Point, with a lovely valley between. Mr. and
Mrs. Murdoch and Mrs. Gordon live nearby, and Dr.
and Mrs. Saunders occupy a room in the college. I
wish you could see those Highland boys and girls. They
come jumping out of the bushes and crowd the chapel
and sing for all they are worth. You couldn't hear me
at all. They have actually learned to play croquet and
baseball and swing on a flying Dutchman.

Papa preached every nKjrning at 8 o'clock in the col-
lege chapel, and at night in the church. You never saw

194 Galax Gatherers, and

such a path up the mountain to the church, before they
made a new one. It was like climbing a tree. But they
all got there and crowded the church. I never saw the
like of babies, and they didn't whimper the whole time.
So many people joined the church (forty-three I believe)
and Mr. Murdoch baptized thirty-five at one time.
Would you believe it, I found a little namesake of yours
up here at Mr. Jack Gross's, between two big moun-
tains. They call her Annie Guerrant, and all say she
looks like you. Of course, she is a beauty. She has
three older sisters — Cora, Dora and Delora — and all very
pretty, bright girls.

I stopped to see a woman who weaves blankets on a
big loom in the front porch. It was a curiosity.

The men were building the new girl's dormitory out
of great hemlock logs, all sawed square. It will be
beautiful. This is the only college in this big country,
and the people are very proud of it. One day four hun-
dred crowded into the chapel to hear the exercises.

Well, we started home at 6 o'clock in the morning,
on two mules. You ought to have seen me. I know I
looked like a horsefly on that big mule, but I stuck to
him, and he brought me through all right. My valise
handles broke, and we had to tie it on with a rope. Papa
stopped to see Mr. and Mrs. Cochran, our missionaries
on Turner's Creek, and preached in Gordon Chapel at
ID o'clock. For a wonder, there was a good congrega-
tion on Thursday morning. Dr. Saunders came this
far with us, and remained to preach over Sunday.

I don't think I ever saw such a poor country as this.
It is pitiful.

Papa stopped and preached again at Canoe, at 2

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 195

o'clock, and we had to hustle those mules across the
mountains, ten miles, to Elkatawa by dark. It was all
of thirty miles the way we came, and I didn't have to be
rocked to sleep that night. Mr. Arthur McDaniel
walked the whole distance and beat us to Elkatawa. He
came to take the mules back. I tell you, these High-
landers are walkers ! He must have passed us while
papa was preaching.

Well, I guess you are glad we are back, so I will give
you a rest now.

Grace.

ON THE GRAPEVINE.
Dear Anne:

You don't get many letters from the mountains, so I
thought I would write you one. Papa promised to
take me with him the next time he went to the moun-
tains to preach, so we started on the loth of July, and
at Lexington took the Kentucky Union Railroad for
the mountains. We went one hundred miles to Jack-
son, in Breathitt County. The road went up the Red
River, where the big clifTs stand up on both sides of the
road, hundreds of feet high. Many of the mountams
have rocks on top like domes, bigger than a church.
They are grand. The river was lined with beautiful
fiowers of ivy and laurel.

I saw some men cutting oats with a big scythe, with
fingers on it ; papa said they were cradling. That was
curious to me. One big tree was growing on top of a
big rock. About six o'clock in the evening we reached
Jackson, on the north fork of the Kentucky River. It

196 Galax Gatherers, and

is a very nice town, and we have a church and college
there, where they had none a few years ago.

On Wednesday morning we started for the mountains
in Perry County. Mr. Charles Little, papa's friend, went
along with us, and took his niece. Miss Kate Patrick,
to help sing. He had two buggies ; we rode in one and
they in the other. Papa brought a little Estey organ
and we tied it on behind our wagon.

We went up the Kentucky River ten miles to the
mouth of Troublesome Creek. Here we got into trouble
enough. We had to get out and help the wagon down
the rocky stairsteps in the road. We went up Trouble-
some a mile, and then went up Lost Creek ten miles,
and the man there said there were ten thousand big saw
logs in that creek. I never saw the like. The little
houses all had martin boxes, but no yard nor shade.

Down on Troublesome we saw some ladies bare-footed,
and one old lady had shoes on but no stockings, and one
had on a dress shorter than mine. I guess she must
have been an old maid.

The m^ountains were very steep, but had corn growing
on their sides nearly to the top. They can't plow them
up and down, but crossways. We saw coal-mines all
along the road, just sticking out of the mountains.
Some times we rode over solid coal-beds, and the big-
gest trees I ever saw grow along the creeks and rivers.
They are awfully big. We saw a big boy who had only
a shirt on, and most of the men were bare-footed, but
they were very clever.

When we went ten miles up Lost Creek, we turned up
a creek called "Ten Mile" Creek. Well, it was awful.
I thought we had passed bad roads, but we were just

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 197

beginning them. Three men went along to cut trees
and roll logs and rocks out of the road. And such a
road ! over big rocks and logs and steep banks, and deep
holes and around splash-dams. I thought our buggy
would be smashed all to pieces. The horse pulled one
trace in two, and a big rock broke a spoke out of the
buggy. Sometimes we had to walk and climb. When
we rode over the rocks we couldn't keep our hats on.
Sometimes I bumped papa, and sometimes he bumped
me. It was too funny. Papa got a man to lead the
horse around a big tree on the mountain while he and
another man held the buggy. The horse got strangled,
and the man cried out, "Here's a dead horse," and scared
me nearly to death. But they got the horses up and
we went on over a mountain to the Grapevine Creek.
Here we had a time getting down the mountain, the
path was so steep and sidelong. Mr. Little's horse went
over the mountain-side; he jerked him back and he fell
down, with the buggy on him. Papa and some men
helped take him out, and then the buggy ran away
down the mountain and broke the shaft. Then they all
took our horse out and got the buggy down to the foot'
of the mountain by the hardest work.

Papa said this was my vacation trip. I think it was.
I never saw as much in my life. The day seemed a
week long. The road down the Grapevine was no road
at all. Mr. Little and papa had to walk and lead and
roll the big logs out of the way. It took us five hours
to go seven miles. We got to the mouth of Grapevine
about dark, twenty-seven miles by the road we came,
and about forty by the river, above Jackson. Papa had
a friend living there named Dr. Wilson, but we could

198 Galax Gatherers, and

not get our buggies to his house so we crossed the river
and stayed at Mr. Tom. Johnson's. They are very clever
people, indeed. Papa and Mr. Little went over the
river and stayed at Dr. Wilson's.

Mr. Sawyers, our missionary, was there. Papa is
preaching in the little school-house, on the bank of the
river, and it is crowded at lo A. M. and 4 P. M. Miss
Kate Patrick and I play the little organ, the first one
ever played in the county for worship. Emma John-
son has the only one in the county. The people are
very clever and attentive, and most of them walk to
church. About twenty-five have joined, and Mr. John-
son was the first one, and one old man nearly seventy,
and one real pretty little girl named Dora Duff. Mr.
Johnson is a leading man in the country, and lives in the
only brick house.

We went swimming in the river one evening; it was
about a foot deep, and we had lots of fun. It is very
cool, and very quiet in these mountains. Sunday we
are going to take dinner to church, and have an all-day
meeting. Next week we are going to Hazard, the only
town in Perry County. They say the road up Camp-
bell's Creek and down "Forked Mouth" Creek is worse
than "Ten Mile" and Grapevine. I pity it, if it is. But
I guess we will go it. Papa is going to preach on Big
Creek next week. When you get tired and want a
vacation, come to Grapevine. The people will be glad
to see you. They are clever as can be. Good-bye,

Your sister,

Grace.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 199

TO BIG CREEK.

Dear Anne:

My last letter brought you to the mouth of the Grape-
vine Creek. Well, we had a big meeting there Sunday,
from 10 A. M. till 5 P. M., two hours for dinner. There
was a crowd — the school-house was packed — and it was
so hot that I could hardly get my breath. Papa preached
morning and evening ; thirty-five joined ; and he had to
baptize most of them, as they had never been baptized.
Some people had to stand out in the rain. Monday
morning we bade all good-bye and started to Big Creek.
The roads were worse and worse. One clever man went
along to hold the buggy. We went up the Kentucky
River, and then up Campbell's Creek and across an
awful mountain to Forked Mouth Creek. Oh, me ! .\ bad
boy would say it was "forked lightning." We got down
it alive, by walking and climbing, and leading, and hold-
ing the buggies. The mountains and rocks just cov-
ered up the road entirely. We passed a little school-
house, and all the children ran out to see the buggies.
They were curiosities to them. One little boy said he
lived on a creek, but didn't know its name. He saw big
rattlesnakes up there, too. One funny man was riding
an ox, and had a bedquilt for a saddle and bark for his
girth. Another man had an ox geared up like a horse,
and was ploughing him. One old lady was carrying her
baby, and a little p'g was following her like a dog. When
she stopped, it lay down at her feet, (^ne litile lionse
had a pole put up in the yard, and three l^ottles hung
on its top for ornaments. There were no trees in the

200 Galax Gatherers^ and

yard. One lady had a naked tree full of egg-shells,
like a snow-ball bush. It was funny to me.

Well, after a hard journey over mountains and more
creeks, we reached Big Creek. Papa had been there
before, and the good people came up the road to meet
us. I never saw cleverer people, though they are not
rich, nor proud. Kate and I stayed at Mr. Field's, up
on Big Creek, and Mr. Little and papa had to stay down
at Mr. Wiley Couch's, as there was not room for us all
at one house. Papa preached in the school-house four
days, and twenty-seven joined the church. H,e organized
a church there. We met some nice girls at Big Creek.
One of them told us she could sing twice as loud as we
could, and I believe it. We went fishing and caught
some nice fish and ate them. The people were so clever,
we enjoyed our visit there. The little deaf boy who
joined the church before was there; he is a smart boy,
and can talk a little. He is going to the Institute at
Danville. His name is Willie Fugate.

On Friday evening we crossed the mountain, and
went to Hazard, the county seat. It is a little town of
about one hundred people. It used to have a bad name,
because so many people were killed there. It is better
now. The Methodist Church is not quite done- and ours
is just begun. The river runs between the town and
the mountains. They never had a church here before.
Papa preached in the court-house. J\Iany people came
to church, and twenty-three joined. He preached in the
jail one day, and three poor prisoners joined. It was an.
awful place, and I felt sorry for them. The doors were
iron bars, and big bolts and locks to hold them safe. A
mountain preacher came to church, and he had been

Sketches or the American Highlanders. 201

shot in the ear by some bad men. They said he killed
their hogs. A big freshet came down the river and
carried away hundreds of big saw-logs. They said a
water-spout broke on a creek called "Kingdom Come,"

We walked up the river one day and met two men
carrying a hundred fish, called red horses. They were
very pretty. We climbed to the very top of a big
mountain with Mr. Sawyers, and he said we could see
the Cumberland Mountains away off. There were some
Indian graves up there. The mountains were covered
with trees broken down by the big snow in May. On
Tuesday morning papa preached at Hazard the last time,
and we started, after dinner, to Jackson, forty miles
away, over the mountains. They have no regular hotel
at Hazard. Somebody burned the hotel up a year ago.

We drove twenty miles Tuesday evening down the
river, up Lot's Creek, and down Lost Creek, to Mr.
Watts', which we reached about dark. The road was
pretty bad. We were almost turned over in Lost Creek
once in a big hole full of big rocks. Mr. Little's har-
ness kept breaking, until he tied it with wire. One
clever old lady said I looked the "naturalest." I don't
know what she meant. Maybe she thought I favored
papa. When we played the organ they wondered why
we worked our feet. They couldn't understand it. But
they are clever as they can be, and one of them told
papa that they were poor, but their souls were worth as
much as rich people's. We saw no churches and met
few preachers, and they were not educated. We got
up at 4 o'clock this morning and started to Jackson at
6 o'clock, and by hard driving reached here at I2 o'clock.

202 Galax Gatherers^ and

So our long journey over the mountains is ended, and
we are alive.

Your sister,

Grace.

JETT'S CREEK.

It was a cold day when I started to Jett's Creek, and
a long way ; but they had urged so persistently I could
not refuse. A hundred miles took me to Elkatawa,
where I spent the night with Brother Evans, the faith-
ful Welsh missionary. He is a "light in a dark place" ;
salt that has not lost its savor. The world needs more
such men, with the spirit of the Master.

Six o'clock next morning found me on the way to
Jett's Creek, several miles from the railroad, on the beau-
tiful Middle Fork of the Upper Kentucky River. "Proc-
tor Bill" met me at Athol with a led horse, and went
with me to the old school-house, on Jett's Creek, where
I preached at lo A. M. Saturday.

There is no church here, though the valley is filled
with people, and nearly one hundred children in this dis-
trict alone. They beg for a good school and church,
and offer all they are able to help build them. One old
man with a big family and a grown son, born blind, said
he would give any land he had and $150.00 to have a
good school and church. The others were equally anxi-
ous and liberal. I wonder how they get any money in
so poor and wild a country. Most of it is made by
hewing out railroad ties and floating them down the
river to market. Only children are abundant. I dined
in a little two-room house, with a young couple, who

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 203

had seven, and I spent the night where there were
twelve, and I have never seen a finer lot of children.
Many of them go bare-footed all winter and some of
them until they are grown ; few of them are warmly
clad. But they are happy and content and love their
mountain homes, with a strange idolatry. I begged for
one bright boy out of seven, in an open hovel, of one
room, to be indignantly refused. He wouldn't go to
the "palace of a king." They must be saved and edu-
cated at home. Night found me far up on Puncheon
Camp, after preaching at 2 P. M. I crossed the river
and stopped awhile at "Proctor Bill's" poor, little cabin,
under the mountain, away from anywhere. I am glad
generous hands have given him help to provide a better
home soon. The Puncheon Campers are aroused to
the need of a good school and church, and old Man
Herald gave the most beautiful site on the river for a
church and college — several acres at the mouth of
Puncheon Camp. His son gave all the timber to erect
all the buildings and $100.00 besides. Others were as
liberal. I have never known the Highlanders so enthu-
siastic in their zeal for better things. They are begin-
ning to realize, as never before, their sore need of both
education and religion. The light is breaking on this
mid-continent of darkness. They need, and deserve,
the help of all who love God and their fellowmen. They
are anxious to help themselves, and surely heaven will
help them. Will it do it by your hand?

Early Sunday morning found us on the way to the
Foreign Field on Jett's Creek. It was a raw, November
day, and I never so felt the utter desolation of these
poor, barren mountains, with the wild waste of rocks and

204 Galax Gatherers, and

peaks and little cabins. Surely Bryant must have been
in such a country when he wrote :

"The melancholy days are come,

The saddest of the year;
Of wailing winds, and naked woods-

And meadows brown and sere."

The paths and roads were full of people going- to
church, mostly on foot, or two on a horse. Mrs. Little
and her children rose at 3 A. M. to get ready to walk
three miles to church, down the river and up Jett's
Creek. At 10 A. M. the house was crowded, some
standing up. Before me sat old Grandmother Mcintosh,
with the three-year-old grandchild in her arms, over
whose possession her sixteen-year-old son was killed,
and her son-in-law was desperately wounded last week.
Oh, for the Gospel of peace and good-will in this coun-
try! Whose sin is it that they do not have it? It is
somebody's. May God help you, if it is yours.

At 2 P. M. the house was crowded again, this bleak
November day, though nine-tenths of the people walked
home and back. What a privilege to preach to such
people. When I was done, I asked all Christians, who
had changed hearts and loved God, to stand up. Prob-
ably a score stood, mostly women. I then asked all
who wished to be Christians and desired to have changed
hearts and to love and serve God, to stand up ; and every
one in the house stood up. No man can read human
hearts, but I hope and expect to meet many of them
beyond these desolate mountains in the Paradise of God.
No man deserves such a reward, but they need and de-

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 205

serve it as much as any I know. They are "The Lost
Sheep" for whom the Good Shepherd is seeking.

A hard ride brought me back to Athol by night. In
a poor, Httle cabin of one room and shed, I found the
badly wounded man, hopeful of recovery. But it is
nothing to the more grievous wounds Satan is daily in-
flicting on these immortal souls, for whom Christ died.

Are you doing your duty by them? Search and see.

THE LUCKY THIRTEEN.— OR THE LADIES'

EXCURSION.

They did not go to Niagara, or Old Point Comfort,
or Atlantic City ; or for fun, or health, or fashion.

This excursion party was composed of the Ladies'
Working Society of the Wilmore Church, Kentucky,
and went to see and encourage and help their poor
brethren in the mountains. Like Paul's party of old,
'they took up their carriages" and went to worship in
the humble temples of the mountaineers. Thirteen
ladies going on an excursion without a trunk was a
"wonder to behold."

So they went with only such baggage as they could
carry in their hands. It was the first, and, so far as I
know, the only excursion of the kind. They went over
the new and beautiful route of the Kentucky Union Rail-
road, from Lexington, which penetrates the heart of the
Kentucky Mountains. They took a preacher along, to
be certain of having preaching. This was a new feature
of excursion parties.

Their first stop was at Stanton, the quiet, cosy capital

206 Galax Gatherers, and

of Powell County, in the beautiful valley of the Red
River. Here Rev. Andrew Irvine presided over the first
and only Presbyterian Church ever built in the county,
and it is yet in its infancy. He and his good people
gave the excursionists a royal welcome — a sumptuous
supper and a sermon in the little new church. Here the
ladies spent a day making the acquaintance of their sis-
ters and brethren, and enjoying the sights of the pretty
mountain village, and encouraging the little church with
the assurance of brotherly (or sisterly) love and sym-
pathy.

From Stanton they went up the romantic Red River,
through one continuous canon of overhanging clififs,
and under a mountain to the Kentucky River, thence
down the river to Beattyville, the county seat of Lee,
on her seven hills, overlooking the three forks of the
river. Here they arrived at 6 P. M,, and at 8 P. M.
had another sermon from their preacher, in the court-
house. Rev. Alexander Henry, the pastor of the first
Presbyterian Church in the city, received them, most
cordially, with his people, and entertained them until the
next evening. During the day, they saw the sights of
the Gate City of the mountains, visited many of the
church members, enjoyed their Christian hospitality, and
rejoiced with them over their new church being built.
At 4 P. M. they resumed their journey, by boat and
rail, to Athol, on the border of "Bloody Breathitt" — no
longer bloody, but blessed with the blood-bought salva-
tion of Jesus. Here they spent the Sabbath, most of it,
in the little new church, the first Presbyterian Church
ever built in Lee County, and which they had helped to
build with their needles.

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 207

At II A. M. their preacher preached the dedication
sermon. The house was filled with eager listeners, most
all of whom had walked for miles through the rain and
mud.

There was not a wheeled vehicle at the church, and
but few horses. The earnest people prized the Gospel
enough to walk many miles to hear it. And they were
not tired out with the sermon, but spread a bountiful
dinner, fed all the multitude, and listened to another
sermon from Brother Mickel, and the election and ordi-
nation of some new officers.

The excursionists enlarged their liberality and paid
oflf the debt on the little church, — and laid up more
treasures in heaven, — and rejoiced that the "poor have
the Gospel preached to them." Probably they never
spent a more pleasant or profitable day than that under
the shadow of the mountains, in the little church on the
Twin Creek.

You don't wonder that ''God came down to see," and
was so pleased that He added forty-eight souls to the
church that week, and forty-eight jewels to the Re-
deemer's crown, and forty-eight reasons for rejoicing on
earth and in heaven.

After thanking God for what they had seen and felt
of His abounding goodness, and learning something of
the great needs of their poor brethren in the mountains,
and being watered themselves, while watering other
thirsty spirits, the ladies went on to Jackson, the grow-
ing capital of Breathitt County.

They reached the little mountain city about 7 P. M.,
and at 8 o'clock all went to church again, where their
preacher preached in the Presbyterian Church to a

208 Galax Gatherers, and

crowded house, the first church ever built in the town
or county, now with plenty of company, and hundreds
of earnest Presbyterians where there were none.

The good people of Jackson (and there are none bet-
ter) received them in their homes and hearts, showed
them their handsome court-house, their new Presby-
terian College (the first college in the mountains of Ken-
tucky), and their many commodious stores and com-
fortable homes.

So ended the excursion of the lucky thirteen, the first
Gospel excursion to the poor brethren in the mountains.
It would be difficult to tell whether they received or
communicated the greater good. God blesses both the
giver and the receiver.

FROM THE LOST CREEK.

As you have probably never been in this neighbor-
hood, and would not object to read about it, I will send
you a line to enlist your sympathy and stimulate your
zeal for those who dwell in the land of the Troublesome.

How significant those names, and how naturally and
inevitably they are associated ! Lost Creek, on the Trou-
blesome ! How many thousands live on these sorrowful
waters who do not know whence they came, nor wither
they go. But as this is not to be a sermon, but a letter,
I will proceed.

We left home on Monday, July the 13th, for the moun-
tains of Eastern Kentucky. The first day brought us to
Jackson, one hundred miles southeast of Lexington. On
Tuesday morning, ten miles up the Kentucky River from

Sketches of the America:^^- Highlanders. 209

Jackson, brought us to the mouth of the Troublesome,
a stream fifty-two miles long-. A mile up this swollen
river brought us to the mouth of Lost Creek, where we
pitched the big tent, in the rain, to preach the Gospel.

A flood had just devastated the Lost Creek for twenty
miles, washing everything movable away and drowning
the teacher at its mouth. The rain continued almost
daily for ten days, so the ground under the tent never
got dry.

Even the frogs sought refuge in the houses, and things
that could not swim had a hard time to get about. Seven
men and seven women, and a score of school children,
made up our first congregation. The girls and weather
prospects all looked blue, but God smiled away the
clouds and brought the people to church.

My daughter, Grace, and her companion, Miss Nan-
nie McCauley, from Troy, made sweet music on the
little organ. Harry Cockerham and Elias Moore, our
mountain boys, helped with the seating and the singing.
A poor fellow died of typhoid fever nearby, and I
preached his funeral, in the yard, to a big crowd. So
"Billy" Campbell's death, I trust, was a means of grace
to some of his neighbors.

Few people in this country are members of any church ;
those who are, being mostly Hardshell Baptists, — clever
and narrow. Only one lone Presbyterian breaks the
monotony on Troublesome. He is faithful Nathan
Sallee, who joined on the Quicksand last summer, and
now lives here.

Owing to the roads and the weather, we had to hold
both services by daylight. So wc began at 9:30 o'clock
in the morning and closed between 4 and 5 o'clock in

210 Galax Gatherees, and

the afternoon, with a recess for dinner. During these
long hours for ten days these patient people sat on most
uncomfortable seats, of rough planks, to hear the Gospel.

They were as well behaved as any city congregation,
except the dogs and babies, which occasionally raised a
disturbance. But as the boys and mothers could not
come without them, we "put up" with a few dozen for
ten days. You may not appreciate the fact, but this
is a triumph of grace. The man who has not attained
it had better keep out of the mountains.

Some generous friends in New York had sent me
some two hundred and fifty Bibles and Testaments,
which I gave to all who had none. Thousands of tracts
and newspapers were gladly received. Few people here
ever get any newspaper, especially a religious paper.

I made all who received a Bible or Testament prom-
ise to preserve it and read it daily. They received them
gladly, and I believe will read them diligently. My
heart was moved when I saw how many families were
without the Word of God, and how eagerly they sought
it — some of them coming miles over rough mountain
roads for a Testament.

The congregations increased, until Sunday the big
tent was filled, and after preaching I gave the first invi-
tation for all who had received Jesus and would publicly
confess Him to come forward, and over one hundred
came up, not counting members of the church.

It was the Day of Pentecost on Troublesome. None
had ever seen the like before. Most of them were men
and women, and some well stricken in years. I noticed
the absence of children. Probably they could not yet
understand the plainest preaching, not being accustomed

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 211

to it. The little school-house here affords the only place
of worship, with no Sabbath schools, or prayer meeting,
or regular preaching, for years.

The weather continued fearfully hot, with daily rains,
until Thursday. I had set that day to discuss baptism,
as no meeting here is complete without it. It constitutes
the bulk of most of them. The crowd filled every plank
and many sat on the ground. The good Baptist preach-
ers and people were present in force, with a sprinkle of
Methodists and my lone Presbyterian. Brother Shew-
maker, pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Jackson,
and Brother Mann, of the Methodist Church there, came
up to-day.

The result of the service to-day was twenty-seven con-
fessions of Christ; thirteen united with the Presbyterian
Church ; eight with the Methodist, and six with the Bap-
tist. Brother Shewmaker baptized the Presbyterians ; I
baptized the Methodists, at Brother Mann's request, as
he was not ordained, and I recommended the Baptist
brethren to their own preachers.

Most of the people are hereditary Baptists and are
tenacious of their inheritance, but their ideas need refor-
mation, sometimes. Aunt Ferraby Noble had to be im-
mersed twice, because the water in Leatherwood Creek
was not deep enough, so it had to be done over and
better, in Troublesome.

But God never made cleverer people, and they de-
serve better treatment than they have ever received from
their more fortunate brethren in the Blue Grass. It is
a privilege and pleasure to preach to people who walk
miles to church, and sit on rough boards for four hours
a day, without a murmur.

212 Galax Gatherers, and

It was a sorrow to leave them at last, and know that
tens of thousands around them and beyond them in
these interminable mountains were as hungry as they,
and even more destitute. It ought to move a heart of
stone. Will it move yours?

A TEACHER'S LETTER.
From the Highlands.

My Dear Friend:

Dr. G. has just informed me that you have decided to
help a girl in our school, and I thought it would be a
satisfaction to you to know something about the college
and the conditions surrounding it. We are situated in
Breathitt County, long notorious for its deeds of blood
and its feuds. A better day is rapidly coming, however,
for its people are strong, virile, attractive, and possessed
of much native sense. They have been wicked and
ignorant from environment, rather than choice.

They have many noble natural qualities, and are very
lovable, at least we find them so. Until recent years no
one had ever penetrated the fastnesses of these moun-
tains with the Gospel, our beloved Dr. Guerrant being
the first to come to them with the message of life, from
the great country across the hills. Even yet only about
five hundred of the six thousand children of Breathitt
County have ever been in the Sunday School.

Many of the grown people cannot read. There are

Sketches of the American Highlanders. 213

public schools, but their administration is so inefficient
and corrupt that many are practically without any means
of education at all. If the children are ever educated
and Christianized, it must be through mission schools.

A few of the people are in comfortable circumstances,
but a great many of them are wretchedly poor. But
there are no nice homes, even among the better-to-do.
A three or four-room cabin, with a loft, represents the
finest type of a mountain home, and no furniture except
the absolute essentials, and that hand-made. When we
came here last July the wealthiest family on our creek
had an organ. Now there are several. The majority of
the cabins have but two rooms, and a great many have
only one. The poorness of the homes arises from pov-
erty and ignorance. I feel sure there is enough money
spent on whiskey in Breathitt County in two or three
years' time to build a decent cottage for every family in
the county. Thus as Christianity comes the physical
conditions will be bettered.

Our school is called Highland College, and is situated
on a lovely mountain stream called Puncheon Camp. Our
campus of six acres was given by one of the Highland
men of the community. Only a few years ago this was
considered one of the most unlikely places on earth for a
school. It was one of the worst places in "Bloody
Breathitt." His grace can subdue the wildest and most
untamed spirits and make them sweet and lovable.

There is a mountain behind us and in front of us, and
stretching away in every direction. And night and day,
summer and winter, fair weather and foul, the mountains
are beautiful. The one in front of the school is an inspi-

JJ14 Galax Gatherers, and

ration always. In summer it is a solid mass of verdure,
in autumn a flaming bouquet, in winter an imposing
spectacle covered with snow, or on rainy days with rip-
pling '-ascades, great icicles hanging from the cliffs, and
sometimes, as to-day, its trees are coated with a glassy
mail of ice. Nature is awful here at times, and we have
had a terrible winter, but it is always romantic and
beautiful. This has been one of the most terrible days
of the season. It has rained and sleeted in torrents all
day, and the creeks and rivers are greatly swollen. The
Kentucky River, just below, has a great "tide," as the
high waters are called. A number of our pupils crossed
it at the risk of their lives to get to school this morning,
and others walked two miles in the sleet and water, some
with very poor shoes, too.

We have suffered much this winter from inadequate
buildings. We really have no dormitory. There are
two little cabins on the campus, in one of which the
housekeeper lives, in the other the assistant teachers and
part of the boarding pupils. The cottage in which we
stay is a crude affair, with four rooms and an attic. Ten
boys sleep in the attic. It is very low and narrow, and
has but one small window. On all but the coldest nights
they have to keep the door open to allow sufficient fresh
air. Downstairs, beside my own family (my husband,
myself and little boy), I keep seven grown girls. We
could have had nfty boarders this year, if we had had the
room.

Every night after supper they gather about the fires
to study their lessons, and such interesting groups they
make. I doubt whether this letter will be coherent; I

Sketches of the American Highlandees. 215

have stopped at least twenty times to help with problems
and parsing, etc.

We have a nice Sabbath School and a Christian En-
deavor Society and prayer meeting. Nearly all of our
boys and girls take part in the meetings. A number of
them have become Christians.

There is now but little drinking and no fighting on our
creek. The most desperate drunkard in the vicinity, and
one I never hoped to see reclaimed, sent a request last
week to be remembered in the chapel prayers. I feel con-
fident that a great work is before us here, if we can be
provided with suitable buildings. Dr. G. is trying very
hard to raise money to build us a dormitory and furnish
it. Some of our large pupils have slept three in a bed
this year. I feel that we can manage most any way for
one year, to give our school a start, but one could not
hold up always under the existing conditions. We have
no private apartm.cnt at all, but have to allow all pupils
to study and receive all visitors in the room where we
sleep. This is rather embarrassing when one has to
make one's toilet, or when one is ill. Sometimes men
will come in before 1 get dressed for school, and I have
to ask them to go out until I fmish. But we live in
hopes of better things. J thought last Sunday when
another of our dear boys gave his heart to God, that
these trifling inconveniences are very little things com-
pared to the rich returns which we get in our work. Now
for the little girl which we have chosen for you. Her
name is Dora, and she is thirteeen years old. She will
be about the fifth grade. Ilcr fatiier is a very poor,
deserving young man, one of the Christian men of the

216 Galax Gatherers.

community. I can tell you more about her later, as
since she has not been attending school on account of her
poverty, I have not become so well acquainted with her
as with some of the other children. Only lack of time
cuts my letter short in speaking of these dear mountain
people. But I must close.

Index

Page

Alexander Memorial Church 176

A Girl's Trip to the Far Cumberlands 191

At Elkatawa 83

A Woman's Letter 179

A Flying Visit 113

A Teacher's Letter 212

Bloody Breathitt 152

Burial on Puncheon Camp 170

Bethsalem 177

Big Sandy 54

Brother Trimble of Virginia 59, 61, 62

Brother Bryan of Birmingham 9G, 189

Brother King and Smoky 1, 113

Brother Harris' Field 15, 18, 20, 23

Burnsville 19

Bear Creek 117

Crossing Turner's Creek Mountain 142

Chenowee Mountain 73

Catechism Contest at Crockettsville 184

Crossing the Big Black Mountain 36

Chenowee 73

Church on the Grapevine 195

Coming to Christ Barefooted 102

Cataloochee in the Great Smokies 104

Dedication of Canoe Church 136

Dedication by Dr. McCorkle 157

Dedication of Crockettsville Church 99

Dan Mcintosh 27

Dedication on Haddlx Fork 30

Dr. Withcrspoon 41

Dr. Patten's Letter 73

218 INDEX.

Page

Elkatawa 83

Ebenezer in the Great Smokies 113

From Hazard 46

From the Regions Beyond 144

Feed My Lambs 166

Funerals in the Highlands 169

Funerals in the Great Smokies, by Mrs. Everett 171

Grandmother Mcintosh and the Tragedy 204

Galax Gatherers 1

Gorge of the Nolachucky 3

Glencairn 6

Gladesville 12, 13

Glen Athol 179

Gran Nobles 48

Hazard 46

Highland College 156

Highland Orphans' Home, by Dr. Lilly 162

Hazel Green 176

Highland Wedding 33

His Introduction 70

Ivy Patch 42

Introduction by Dr. Moore VII

Jackson, the Capital 46, 153

Jake Fields on Big Creek 97

Jack's Church 56

Jett's Creek 202

John K. Coit 15, 19

KatJiileen Askew'g School 67

Lewis Hensley 32, 67, 146

Letter to the Children In the City 161

Lost Creek 208

Lost Cre«k on the Troublesome 210

INDEX. 219

Page

Loafers' Glory 4

Llzzette 7

Mr. Murdoch 54, 85, 136, 194

Miss Withers on the Canoe 30, 141, 151

Mrs. Mary Hoge Wardlaw 179

Mrs. Andrews' Work 31

Mac Davis 16

Micaville 20

McKelway at Fayetteville 24

Miss Warren and Mr. Little 114, 115

Mormons in the Mountains 119

Mission on the Canoe 132

Mrs. Robard's School 132, 136, 185

North Carolina Alleghanies 15

North Carolina Scotch-Irish 24

One Woman 57

On the Grapevine 195

On to Big Creek 199

On the Watauga 3

Old Virginia Mountains 9

On the Estatoa 19

On the Canoe 140

Old Canaan 140

Parmlees, The 109, 113, 116

Preaching at Hazard 46

Proctor Bill 68

Partridge and Barrett's Trip 77, 80, 82

Panther Ridge 86

Puncheon Camp 147

Professor Gordon's Account 186

Pentecost at Puncheon Camp 189

Preaching at Log College 91

Preaching to the Poor 98

220 INDEX.

Page

Raven Roost 62

Rev. Eugene P. Mickel 49, 50, 176, 177, 207

Rev. James M. Little 45, 145, 147, 178

Rev. James A. Bryan 189

Rousseau 79

Rev. James B. Converse's Field Ill

Saunders, Rev. Miles, D. D 83, 92, 93, 99, 101, 135

Stanton and Beattyville 205, 206

South Toe 21

Shouting on Bear Creek 44

Shoulder Blade 65

Seminary of the Great Smokies 108, 115

Satan and the Mormons 129

The Troublesome 49

Turkey Creek 59

The House that God Built 91

The Spieer Church 144

Twenty Years After on Puncheon Camp 150

The Orphan Child 168

Tour Through the Cumberlands 175

The Mountain Children, 38, 47, 52, 60, 67, 112, 161, 162,
164, 166, 181, 182, 185, 193.

The Lucky Thirteen 205

The Big Meeting 79, 180

Tom's Creek 12

The Barrows Family 105

Uncle Richard Herald 203

Qncle Nimrod 28

Up the Chattaroi 54

Upper Quicksand 76

Whitesburg 39

Yancey County 17

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