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REV. THOMAS HOGE.
Our Church and Our Village
I. HISTORY OF THE CLAYSVILLE
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
II. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF
REV. THOMAS HOGE
III. REMINISCENCES OF CLAYS-
VILLE, PA.
BY
GEORGE W. F. BIRCH, D.D., LL.D.
NEW YORK
WARD & DRUMMOND
1899
Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Astor Place, New York
=5ft5^ 1195049
V>
. '^ Uo tbc flDemotg ot
i THE PRESBYTERIAN PIONEERS OF THE
SCOTCH-IRISH RACE
OF
WESTERN PENNSYLVANIA
AND THEIR DESCENDANTS
THIS BOOK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
BY ITS AUTHOR.
fniMs /irfu T^i^fc^ lU^/i^
n:^.
Introduction
Introduction
During the summer of 1895 the Presbyterian con-
gregation of Claysville, Washington County, Pennsyl-
vania, decided to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniver-
sary of the organization of the church, which occurred
on September 20, 1820. Accordingly the necessary
arrangements were made for an appropriate observ-
ance of the event on September 20, 1895. The fol-
lowing description of the celebration is compiled from
the Wheeling (W. Va.) Intelligencer, the Washington
(Penn.) Democrat, and the Washington (Penn.) Obser-
ver, under date of September 21, 1895.
Friday was a memorable day in the history of the
Claysville Presbyterian Church. The occasion was the
celebration of the seventy-fifth, or diamond, anniver-
sary of the organization of the church. An admirable
programme had been prepared, and was carried out
almost to the letter. Only two of the speakers sched-
uled for addresses failed to put in an appearance. The
leading idea of the celebration, as the invitations read,
was to commemorate the organization of the church,
revive old and pleasant memories and the early strug-
gles of a church which has been so richly blessed of
God.
Seventy-five years, relatively speaking, does not
seem a very broad span in the affairs of the world,
but when measured in connection with events coinci-
Introduction
dent with that period, and which long since have
passed into the pages of history, one almost wanders
in the valleys of tradition and the fast-darkening
chambers of memory. Since the Claysville congre-
gation was organized its story has become rich in the
history of the Presbyterian Church in this region and
opulent in reminiscences of the early struggles and
triumphs of its first fathers and the succeeding genera-
tions that kept its altar fires burning. It was therefore
with the object of renewing the memories of those
days that the celebration of yesterday was held; a re-
consecration of the fealty of the living to the honored
dead.
The church was tastefully decorated with ever-
greens, and immediately back of the pulpit were the
figures, in evergreen, " 1820-1895." A water-color
picture of the churoh building was hung just below
the dates. The windows in the building were all re-
moved, which made the auditorium very comfortable
during the entire afternoon. The building was at all
times crowded to its utmost capacity, and seats were
arranged along the outside to accommodate those who
were unable to gain admittance to the building. The
addresses could be heard almost as easily on the out-
side as in the church.
In the morning, just before the dinner hour, the
congregation gave a reception to the pastor, Rev.
Frank Fish, and Mrs. Fish, who ihad just returned
from their wedding tour. Following the reception a
splendid dinner was served to the visitors and speakers
in the church yard.
The celebration exercises proper began at one
REV. JOHN M. MEALY, D.D.
Introduction
o'clock, and were opened by a voluntary by the choir.
This was followed by the invocation by Rev. James
I. Brownson, D.D., the oldest minister in the presby-
tery. Rev. T. R. Alexander, of Washington, read
the Scripture lesson, and Rev. T. W. Young, of Pros-
perity, led the congregation in prayer. The following
address of welcome was delivered by W. A. Irwin, of
Claysville, a member of the church session :
Mr. Chairman and Christian Friends: It is my
pleasant duty, as the representative of the Presbyterian
Church of Claysville, to extend to you to-day a warm
and hearty welcome to our church on this our seventy-
fifth or diamond anniversary — this church from which
for many years, one by one, you or your parents have
gone out to find new homes, form new relations, and,
we hope, to bless and gladden the places and people
among whom God in His providence has placed you,
whether as the humble laborer, mechanic, merchant,
farmer, professional man, or minister of the Gospel;
and we welcome you here to-day back to the fountain-
head of your spiritual life, where many of you have
sat in the Sabbath-school and under the Gospel, and
have here given yourselves up to Christ and His ser-
vice. We hope you may to-day be able to again
recount God's blessings, to renew old acquaintances
and friendships, to gladly join with us in commemorat-
ing the time when the altar of God was set up here,
and where, thanks to " Him who doeth all things
well," its fires are still brightly burning.
While we are all proud of our church and its in-
fluence for good, and the moulding of public sentiment
3
Introduction
in this place and community, yet it cannot be confined
here, for how many that have gone out from this
church who have been and are ofificers, teachers,
workers in the C. E. or Y. M. C. A., or simply humble
workers in many other churches where they are lend-
ing their lives and energies for the extension of the
Master's kingdom. While ten ministers are preach-
ing the glorious Gospel of Christ to multitudes of
people, nor is the spirit dying out, two have just
graduated and three more are still in the Theological
Seminary. But these things belong more properly
to our honored historian. Nor must we forget to wel-
come our sister churches, who have come up to re-
joice with us to-day, because our interests are mutual
and we are all laboring for the same blessed cause.
So we welcome all to our meeting here to-day — sister
churches, strangers, and children of the old church.
So again, in behalf of this congregation, I extend to
you a sincere, cordial, and hearty welcome.
Rev. Francis M. Hall, of Conneautville, who was
to have delivered the response, was not present. The
chief speaker of the afternoon was the Rev. G. W. F.
Birch, D.D., of New York, who read the history of
the church. The chairman, in introducing Dr. Birch,
said that he was the oldest minister of the sons of the
church that had entered that profession.
Dr. Birch was followed by the Rev. J. M. Mealy,
D.D., of New Wilmington, a son of the church, w^o
delivered an address on the " Pew of the Church."
This was followed by addresses on reminiscences of
pastors and presbytery. Rev. W. H. Lester, D.D.,
Introduction
of West Alexander, spoke at length on the life of Dr.
McCarrell; Rev. Wm. Speer, D.D., of Washington, on
Rev. Mr. Hoge; Rev. Henry Woods, D.D., on remi-
niscences of presbytery, and Dr. McCarrell and Rev.
James I. Brownson, D.D., of Washington, on remi-
niscences of pastors and presbytery.
The evening session was not less interesting than
the afternoon one, and was attended by fully as many
people. After the opening and devotional exercises,
the Rev. J. D. Mofifat, D.D., President of Wash-
ington and Jeflferson College, spoke on " The Church
and College." Since 1848, fifty-four persons from the
Claysville Church have been graduated from the col-
lege. Among them are Dr. George W. Miller, the
first member to graduate; Hon. John H. Craig, Rev.
G. W. F. Birch, D.D. ; Francis A. Birch, deceased;
Hon. Jc^hn M. Birch, Rev. John M. Mealy, D.D.; Rev.
W. A. McCarrell, Rev. J. J. McCarrell, Rev. T. C.
McCarrell, Hon. S. J. M. McCarrell, John E. Craig,
J. Addison Craig, William Craig, Sr. ; William Craig,
Jr.; T. F. Birch, J. T. Noble, T. C. Noble, T. F. Irwin,
Rev. E. O. Sawhill, Rev. Francis M. Hall, T. S. Ander-
son, E. H. Graham, Robert S. Calder, Robert Inglis,
Harry King, John Inglis, and many others. Rev. A.
A. Mealy, a son of the church, who was to have de-
livered an address on " The Boy at Church," was ab-
sent. He was followed by Rev. E. O. Sawhill, of Alle-
gheny, a son of the Claysville congregation, who spoke
on " The Social Church." The programme was con-
cluded by voluntary remarks by members and visitors.
One of the unique features of the celebration was
the " Songs by Ye Old Folks." These were rendered
Introduction
by a choir of aged people who in their earlier life had
led the singing in the Claysville and other churches of
that region. This ohoir was led by the venerable
Robert Sutherland, who is upwards of eighty years old.
The other members of the choir were Mrs. J. C. Mc-
Conaughey, Mrs. Sarah F. Craig, Mrs. Jane Giles,
Mrs. Wm. Stewart, Mrs. John A. Dickey, Mrs. Mari-
etta Miller, Mrs. M. P. Fish, Mrs. Thos. McKee,
Mrs. Lewis Cooper, Mr. H. C. Noble, Mr. John S.
Miller, Mr. John A. Dickey, Mr. Albert Sprowls, Mr.
Geo. Y. Holmes, Sr., and Mr. Thomas Steele. Prof.
Robert Calder presided ajt the organ during the ren-
dition of these old tunes. In response to a request,
Mr. Sutherland rendered the solo, " David's Lamen-
tation." In his day Mr. Sutherland was a famous
singer in the West Alexander region.
The oldest member of the church at the present time
is the Hon. John Birch, father of the Rev. Dr. G. W.
F. Birch, of New York. He settled in this vicinity in
1830, and is now eighty-five years of age. Mr. A. A.
Mealy, father of the Rev. Dr. John M. Mealy and Rev
A. A. Mealy, came here in 1829, and is the oldest citi-
zen of the town. Another old member of the church
is Miss Mary McLain. Another aged member is Mr.
Jolhn Finley, now eighty-five years of age. Mrs. John
SaWhill, mother of Rev. E. O. Sawhill, is well advanced
in years in membership. Mrs. Mary J. Irwin has be-
longed to the church forty-four years, and was present
at the installation of Dr. McCarrell, Which event she
vividly remembers.
The church has raised up and sent out sixteen min-
isters of the Gospel, including such men as Rev. Dr.
6
HO\. JOHN BIRCH
Born, August 5, iSio. Settled in Claysville, 1832. Justice of the
Peace, 1845-50, 1866-74. County Commissioner, 1S4S-51. Member
of the Pennsylvania Legislature, 1875-76.
With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.
— Ps.ALM xci : 16.
Introduction
Birch, of New York; Rev. Dr. Mealy, of New Wil-
mington;* Rev. Dr. J. J. McCarrell, of McKeesport;
Rev. Wm. A. McCarrell, of Shippensburg; Rev.
Thomas C. McCarrell, of Waynesboro; Rev. A. A.
Mealy, of Bridg-eville; Rev. E. O. Sawhill, of Alle-
gheny; Rev. F. M. Hall, of Conneautville, and Rev.
R. S. Inglis, of Jackson, Mich. Four of the daughters
of the Claysville Church married ministers. Miss
Martha McLain, daughter of Elder Wm. McLain, was
wedded to Rev. Dr. Alexander McCarrell; Miss Eliza-
beth Birch, daughter of Hon. John Birch, and sister
of Rev. Dr. G. W. F. Birch, was married to Rev. Dr.
J. J. McCarrell; Miss Ella V. King, daughter of W. C.
King, banker, was married to Rev. O. T. Langfitt, and
Miss Sarah M. Anderson, daughter of W. C. Ander-
son, Esq., to Rev. William H. Lester, now a missionary
to Chili, South America, f Another daughter of the
Claysville Church, Miss Kate G. Patterson, went out
in 1889 as a teacher among the Indians. Claysville
Church has been served by several especially dis-
tinguislhed elders. One of the best known in recent
years was Alexander K. Craig, recently deceased, who
was an elder for more than thirty-three years, superin-
tendent of the Sabbath-school for fifteen years, and
leader of the church choir for forty years. X His father,
before him, was a distinguished elder of the same
church, and also very prominent in the service of the
State in several important offices.
* Now of Waynesburgh, Penn.
f Mr. Lester is now a pastor at Greeneville, Tenn,
I At the time of his death, July 29, 1892, he was a mem-
ber of the Fifty-second Congress, from the Twenty-fourth
District of Pennsylvania.
7
o
CO
CO
Historical Address
Historical Address
DELIVERED BY GEORGE W. F. BIRCH, D.D., LL.D.,
OF BETHANY PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEW YORK
CITY, AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE SEVENTY-
FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE CLAYSVILLE PRES-
BYTERIAN CHURCH
The Claysville Presbyterian Church is the vital
factor of historic Claysville. If the National Pike was
the occasion of the existence of Claysville, I feel that
this discourse would not commence aright if it were
not to praise God that there were those among the first
settlers of this village who were filled with the spirit
of Noah, Abraham, and David. Noah took the first
step in humanity's fresh start as the lord of creation
when he came forth from the ark to build an altar unto
the Lord. Wherever Abraham pitched his tent in
Canaan, there he had an altar. The son of Jesse felt
that Jerusalem, the city of David, would not be the city
of God until the Ark of the Covenant was transferred
from the house of Obed-Edom to the hill of Zion.
So the little company which formed the nucleus of
the Claysville Presbyterian Church was a Noachian
band, as it felt that the town could not start right with-
out a church ; was an Abrahamic band, as it felt that a
cluster of homes without a church was a contradiction;
History of the
was a Davidic band, as it felt that the social and politi-
cal welfare of the community hinged upon the pres-
ence of the Church of the Living God.
Hence, when Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar,
during the summer of 1820, invited the Rev. Thomas
Hoge to preach the Gospel in the village of Claysville,
they put themselves abreast of Noah, Abraham, and
David, and inaugurated in this community that object
lesson of the Sermon on the Mount which our Lord
presented when He said, " Ye are the salt of the earth."
" Ye are the light of the world." " A city that is set
on a hill cannot be hid." If Claysville is better than it
would otherwise have been; if it has been preserved
from moral decay; if it has advanced in material pros-
perity; if it has been a centre of religious instruction
and secular knowledge; if from its homes there have
gone forth the torch-bearers of the everlasting gospel ;
if it has been to fathers and mothers, sons and daugh-
ters, friends and neighbors, this earth's revelation of
that path of the just which is as the shining light that
shineth more and more unto the perfect day, it has
been just because the Claysville Presbyterian Church
has been the salt of the earth and the light of the world.
The God of Providence stamps the march of events
during these seventy-five years of church life as salt
which is pungent, as light which is lustrous, as a city
set on a hill which is conspicuous. Therefore the
Claysville Presbyterian Church is a factor of historic
Claysville so vital that without it the history of this
town and vicinity would be another story.
If the foregoing line of thought presents a correct
view of the relation of this church to the town, we can-
REV. FRANCIS M. HALL
Claysville Presbyterian Church
not be too familiar with its history, as it reveals what
God has done through His confessors of Christ in this
part of His heritage. So that the design of this his-
torical address is to stir your minds by way of remem-
brance, by recalling the generations who have made
the past of this church " a book to be read, a figure to
be looked at, a caution from which to learn wisdom."
Indeed, the historical philosophy of which such an
address is the exhibition has been set forth by both the
great Edmund Burke and the versatile Lord Macau-
lay. Says Burke, " People will not look forward to
posterity, who never look backward to their ancestors."
Says Macaulay, " A people w^ho takes no pride in the
noble achievements of remote ancestors will never
achieve anything worthy to be remembered by remote
descendants."
The Scripture warrant for the history which is the
subject of interest on the present occasion, is the fact
that the historic books of the Bible give tone to the
whole of the Sacred Record. The very name (Deu-
teronomy) of the fifth book of the Pentateuch shows
that nearly the whole of it is a historical address to the
persons (along with their children) who had passed
through the Red Sea and had heard the law from Sinai.
It was from the platform of the history of their
fathers that the venerated Joshua poured into the ears
of his countrymen his thrilling appeal, " Choose you
this day whom ye will serve." The magnanimous
Samuel lays down his authority by the delivery of a his-
torical address. The poet-prophet opens the historical
epic of the Seventy-eighth Psalm with a declaration of
its reason why.
13
History of the
*' Give ear, O my people, to my law : incline your ears to
the words of my mouth.
" I will open my mouth in a parable : I will utter dark say-
ings of old :
" Which we have heard and known, and our fathers have
told us.
" We will not hide them from their children, shewing- to the
generation to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength,
and his wonderful works that he hath done.
"For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a
law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they
should make them known to their children :
" That the generation to come might know them, even the
children which should be born ; who should arise and declare
them to their children :
"That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the
works of God, but keep his commandments." *
The history of their nation constitutes the thread
with which the prophets weave their predictions and
their precepts. Isaiah appeals to the seekers of the
Lord to look unto the rock whence they are hewn, and
to the hole of the pit whence they are digged, by look-
ing unto Abraham, their father. (Isaiah li, 1-2.) He
canonizes and confirms the ancient books as he sounds
the battle-cry:
"Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord;
awake, as in the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art
thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon ? Art
thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great
deep ; that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the
ransomed to pass over ? " f
* Psalm Ixxviii. 1-7.
f Isaiah li. 9-10.
14
Claysville Presbyterian Church
A " Thus saith the Lord " prefaces Jeremiah's coun-
sel, " Stand ye in the ways and see and ask for the old
paths, where is the good way and walk therein, and ye
shall find rest for your souls." (Jeremiah vi. i6.)
Our Lord confounded the Jews with the challenge,
" Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have
eternal life: and they are they which testify of me."
(John V. 39.) That speech which gave the martyr
Stephen the face of an angel is a master specimen
of historical philosophy. Guthrie calls the eleventh
chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews " a grand tableau
in which the several heroes of faith stand forth and act
in as lifelike forms as ever appeared in historical
picture or sculptured frieze."
Thus this historical address is an attempt to enforce
a truth which the Bible emphasizes, and which I apply
to the sleeping generations of this church by the use of
the observation that, " When a man of God dies, it by
no means follows that his work dies. There is nothing
more for him to do in the line of his earthly work, but
there may be a great deal more for others to do in the
line of his earthly teachings. Whatever of God's truth
a man of God declares during his lifetime, is just as
truly God's truth after the death of that man of God as
before. It is, indeed, just as important that we should
do the things which the Lord commanded through
Moses ' to a thousand generations,' as it was that the
soldiers of Joshua should do them in their day. And a
large part of our present duty is simply in the doing
what the Lord commanded to our fathers. There are
new messages of God to us, beyond all that our fathers
knew of; but we shall be worth little in the heeding of
IS
History of the
God's new messages to us if we fail of being true to
God's teachings to our fathers." *
This day, seventy-five years ago, September 20,
1820, gave birth to the event known as the organiza-
tion of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. At the
time it took its place in the world's history that
epoch of the history of our National Union known as
the era of good feeling was running its course under
the direction of James Monroe, the fifth President
of the United States. The First Gentleman of Europe,
George the Fourth, sat upon the throne of England.
The great Napoleon was languishing in St. Helena.
The British nation was aflame with the trial of
Queen Caroline. The present Queen Victoria was the
babe, little more than a year old, who was known as
the heir apparent of the British throne. The literary
world was guessing at the author of Waverley as the
home circles of the day turned the fresh pages of the
" Bride of Lammermoor " and " Ivanhoe." As to
poetry, the mention of Scott's " Lay of the Last Min-
strel," of Byron's " Childe Harold," of Keat's " Endy-
mion " ; as to biography, the mention of Boswell's
" Johnson " ; as to criticism, the mention of Francis
Jeffrey; as to theology, the mention of Thomas Chal-
mers, will sufifice to show that literature, seventy-five
years ago, spread a rich feast before our fathers and
mothers. In connection with the institution of the Na-
tional Road, it is interesting to know that Macadam's
theory of road-making had been published only the
year before. Thomas Patterson represented this dis-
* H. Clay Trumbull : Sunday School Times, August 24,
1895.
16
REV. ELDON O. SAWHILL
Claysville Presbyterian Church
trict in the National House of Representatives. Isaac
Weaver was State senator, and Joseph Lawrence,
Thomas McCall, Dickerson Roberts, and John Reed
were members of the General Assembly of the Com-
monwealth of Pennsylvania. The Claysville of 1820
was composed of men who still linger in the memory
of the present generation, and are called up as I speak
of George Wilson, whose business energy and public
spirit were a large factor in the growth and prosperity
of this portion of Washington County; as I mention
Alexander Chapman, who appeared to me as a child
the model of preciseness; as I recall Joseph Bryant,
then the first blacksmith of the village, but afterward
the man of leisure who, while respected by our fathers,
was the terror of every frolicsome boy; as I can see this
very moment that family physician in general. Dr.
James Kerr, whirling his cane and fighting the tobacco
tempter through the incessant mastication of a pine
splinter; as I recollect James Noble, cabinet-maker
and undertaker, who, for the period of fifty-four years,
was known as the funeral conductor of this commu-
nity; as I read over the names which appear in
the list of subscribers to a fund for the establishment
of a school and the erection of a schoolhouse. In the
light of the succeeding years the Claysville citizenship
of 1820 filled their limited stage of action with the
spirit of those who, two hundred years before, made
Plymouth Rock the germ of the free men, the free
speech, and the free soil of this American Republic.
But the setting of our picture would not be complete
without a glance at the men who constituted the Pres-
bytery of Washington when it organized the Claysville
17
History of the
Presbyterian Church. John Chrysostom, " the man
of the golden mouth," of the ancient church, was Hnk-
ing himself with Western Pennsylvania Christianity in
the silver-tongued Marques, of Cross Creek. Paul's
workman " that needeth not to be ashamed " was
showing himself in George M. Scott, of Mill Creek, the
grandfather of Mrs. Benjamin Harrison, who, as a
President's wife, dignified her station as the first
lady of the land, Scotland, in the person of Thomas
Chalmers, on account of a little book on " Faith," had
raised to the rank of a master in theology, both in
thought and expression, John Anderson, of Upper
Buffalo. When succeeding generations cease to reap
the fruits of the wonderful, the genuine revivals which
cradled Western Pennsylvania Presbyterianism, then
the recording angel will strike from Church History
the name of that flaming evangelist, Elisha Macurdy,of
Cross Roads and Three Springs. The first and only
time that I saw Joseph Stevenson, of West Alexander,
was at the turning point of my history wliich made me
a college graduate. I remember distinctly the vener-
able man who responded when Dr. Scott, the president
of Washington College, announced that Father Stev-
enson, of Belief ontaine, Ohio, would lead in prayer.
Indeed this dhurch was, in a measure, a colony from
the flock of Fatlher Stevenson, who, being dead, yet
speaketh in this part of the Lord's heritage. Cephas
Dodd, the good physician who made everybody think
of the Great Physician, was doing his faithful work at
Lower Ten Mile. As a little boy, I have heard my
elders speak of the grand, great sermons of Andrew
Wylie. No name appears more frequently on the rolls
i8
Claysville Presbyterian Church
of the early General Assemblies. What he did for
Washington College may be estimated from the re-
mark of Dr. Robert Baird, " It cannot be questioned
that he was one of the best educated men in the part
of the country in which ihe lived." James Hervey was
feeding and leading the flock of God at the Forks
of Wheeling, and fixing that which he maintained
through life, viz. : the theological balance of tihe Pres-
bytery. Thomas Hoge, at Buflfalo, was supplement-
ing his work at Claysville. Jacob Cozad had just
been installed pastor of the church at Lower Buffalo.
Now let us call the roll of the pioneers of Claysville
Presbyterianism ; let us make mention of these spirit-
ual argonauts; let us note the actors of an event which,
alone of all events in the birth of the village, will sur-
vive this wreck of matter and crus:h of worlds. Fond
recollections in more than one instance will bring the
dead to life as I repeat the first names on the roll of the
membership of this church. The original fifteen are
as follows: Barnet Bonar and his wife, Jane Bonar,
Joseph Henderson and his wife, Mary Henderson,
from the church of Three Ridges, now West Alexan-
der; Widow McGufifin, from the church of Upper
Buffalo; Thomas Stewart and his wife, Mary Stewart,
from the Associate Church of South Buffalo (Rev.
David French, pastor); also Catharine Gemmill and
Martha Morrow; Martha Gamble, from the Associate
Reformed Church (Rev. Mr. Kerr, pastor); Margaret
Miller, from the church of Miller's Run; Andrew Bell
and his wife, Mary Ann Bell, from the church of which
Rev. Thomas L. Birch was pastor; Samuel Gilmore
and his wife, Anne Gilmore, from the Forks of Brandy-
19
History of the
wine church of Chester County, Pennsylvania (Rev.
Mr. Grier, pastor).
The first persons admitted to the organized church
were William McGuffin and his wife, Mary Jane Mc-
Guffin, by examination " as to their Christian experi-
ence and doctrinal knowledge," and Nancy Hutchin-
son by " certificate " from the Forks of Wheeling
Church. Mrs. Hutchinson was the mother of Mrs.
George Milligan, of Claysville.* This roll suggests a
long story, at which I can only glance. No man could
live long in this region and not hear of Barnet Bonar.
I have a distinct recollection of stories of an accurate
marksmanship which made the squirrels he aimed at
say, like David Crockett's coon, which were repre-
sented as answering the aim of David's rifle with the
word, " You need not shoot, Mr. Crockett; I will come
down." During the decade from 1840 to 1850, the
name of the deceased Squire Henderson was a house-
hold word in this community. His wife lived long as
Grannie Henderson to make us feel that God's bene-
diction was upon us as our home circles gave her their
hearty welcome. The sons and daughters of this noble
couple are called to mind; and I think of kind-hearted
Bill, the friend of all the children, and the voluntary
nurse of every sick person he could find; of the manly
Joe, of whose grave no man knoweth unto this day; the
respected John, the sterling Thomas, the stirring Sam,
the devoted Alary Jane, the beautiful Elizabeth, the
* Two children of Simon Shur were the first infants to re-
ceive the rite of baptism. Mr. John Laird, who received the
same rite at the hands of the Rev, Mr. Hoge, was present
during the dehvery of the address.
20
REV. J. ADDISON A. CRAIG
Claysville Presbyterian Church
motherly Becky. I do not know that I ever saw
Thomas Stewart, but I do know that all Claysville
seemed to make a favorite of his son Jim. And I
know also that the pastor who sent Mr. Stewart and
his wife to the new church at Claysville was enshrined
in every heart throughout this region as Davie French,
without the least thought of disrespect. The name of
Andrew Bell suggests his daughter, Margaret Karr
Bell, who was the teacher of the little boys and girls of
our time in Claysville, and who passed to her reward
when she finished her great work as the Mrs. Presi-
dent Miller, of Waynesburgh College. Mr. Bell and
wife helped to organize the Cumberland Presbyterian
Church in Washington, Penn.* He was also a work-
man on the building erected by that organization. It
is as it were but yesterday that I saw the William
McGufitin, who, along with 'his wife, were the first con-
verts in the Claysville Church, and I am once more on
our front porch as I witness the long procession that
followed his remains to the grave.
As was the wont in Western Pennsylvania, the
groves were God's first temples in this community.
According to well-established tradition, the first re-
ligious meetings in this section of the country were
* The Thomas L. Birch who was pastor of the church from
which Mr. Bell came to the new organization, has been the
subject of considerable animadversion by those who have dealt
with the matters in which Mr. Birch was a leading figure. I
do not propose to criticise the unfavorable light in which the
historians place Mr. Birch. However, I think it just to say
that my personal relation to him has caused me to hear of
documents which would seem to prove that there are two sides
to that story.
21
History of the
held at the forks of the Burnsville and Haneytown
roads, about two hundred yards southward from the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. A person still living
recalls the incident of a communion service which he
witnessed in that locality. This locality appeals to
me as memory brings back the impression of my early
childhood when I saw Cal King skating over the mill-
pond near by.
Afterward the place of assembly was changed to
a sugar grove, just about the site of the present resi-
dence of Mrs. Thaddeus C. Noble. It was not long,
however, until the services were transferred to the field
immediately in the rear of the present schoolhouse. In-
deed, this schoolhouse stands on the ground occupied
by the first house of worship, which consisted of a log
schoolhouse already in existence and a frame building
adjoined thereto. The construction was so arranged
that by the removal of a partition the two buildings
were connected when religious services were held.
This building was removed to and is the main portion
of a building which now stands on the lot of Mr. John
Birch, and which has been a part of his tannery for
some forty-five or fifty years.
The sum of the recollections of persons still living
seems to establish beyond doubt that this building
served the purposes of religious worship until 1830.
That year dates the erection of the present brick edi-
fice. Mr. Hoge, the first pastor of the congregation,
assumed the responsibility of one-third of its cost,
which was $2,000. Mr. Josiah Truesdell (the father
of Messrs. Joel Truesdell, of West Alexander, and
Luther Truesdell (lately deceased), and Mrs. Thaddeus
Claysville Presbyterian Church
C. Noble, and the grandfather of Josiah Truesdell
Noble, so well known through this whole region) had
come to this country as a pioneer from Connecticut.
He was evidently a man of affairs, and as a successful
merchant and public-spirited citizen was in the front
rank of the makers of Claysville. A stage-coach acci-
dent brought his promising career to a sudden termi-
nation. Mr. Truesdell was so much the home talk of
the families of the village during my childhood, that
I have never forgotten the time that his widow brought
the little china teapot into our house from which she
gave her husband his last drink. Mr. Truesdell
seemed to be the only person willing to undertake the
work of building the new church. He most ardently
seconded the efforts of Mr. Hoge to provide the con-
gregation with a suitable house of worship, and threw
the activity of his nature and the benefit of his experi-
ence into the supervision of the work. William Knox,
Simon Shur, and Andrew Bell were the carpenters.
Thomas Gourley made the bricks. Mention has been
made of Andrew Bell. Any picture of past Claysville
would be incomplete without the limping, busy figure
of Billy Knox. Simon Shur is no infrequent name in
the records of early Claysville. And what Claysville
boy from 1830 to i860 did not know the Gourleys?
They kept the inhabitants of this country from for-
getting the time when the hunter roamed through
these woods. They evidently agreed with an enthu-
siastic sportsman that " the modern foxhound is one
of the most wonderful animals in creation." They
would make the wild animal their prey and their pet.
I am looking down from our porch now at Tom
23
History of the
Gourley, Jr., as he passes by with thirteen hounds at
his heels. And I confess that the impulse of that stir-
ring life and the music of that hound-bay give me the
old-time thrill to-day.
This brick meeting-house is to-day the monument
of the singular fidelity • and transparent honesty of
Josiah Truesdell, William Knox, Simon Shur, Andrew
Bell, and Thomas Gourley, for after a lapse of sixty-
five years the walls which they reared are in an almost
perfect state of preservation. And as I think of Mr.
Gourley as an old man building upon the founda-
tion of the apostles and prophets by confession of
Christ in this church, I realize that his departure
into eternity was a transfer from the walls which he
constructed so well below to that city whose founda-
tions are what they are because its Builder and Maker
is God.
And ever since, the Presbyterian Meeting-House of
Claysville has been the principal centre of interest in
this community. It gave its name to everything con-
nected with it. There were the meeting-house yard,
the meeting-house lane, the meeting-house hill. That
locust grove, through whose branches we looked at it
from the village, inspired me with all the enthusiasm
of a Shenstone. Those aisles showed on each Sabbath
a procession the like of which I have never witnessed
on the earth. Sculpture, both ancient and modern, has
exhausted itself on the church pulpit, but to my eye the
old Claysville pulpit, with its steps and its railing and
Bible rest, covered with red damask, was a thing of real
beauty. And as I looked at the old pews with their
numbered doors, I felt that they were no common
24
CLAYSVILLE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
Claysville Presbyterian Church
benches. I admit that the pews might have been
more comfortable, but I ever have denounced the
vandalism that removed that old pulpit by which our
ancestors showed that they were by no means deficient
in good taste.
Somebody has written a poem entitled " The
Meeting-House on the Hill." I wish I could find it,
for its meeting-house filled my mind and heart with
our " meeting-house on the hill," Why, dear friends,
it is our Westminster Abbey, for, doubtless, you are
now peopling it with your dear dead as the Lord's
Day found the hearthstone circle in the family pew.
And our heaven will link itself to the meeting-house
on the hill as the way by which we reached God's
temple on high.
The fifty-first chapter of Jeremiah was spoken to the
Jews when they were captives in Babylon. A long
captivity was in prospect. Seventy years must roll
away before God would fulfil His promise to His
people, " I will turn away your captivity, and I will
gather you from all the nations, and from all the
places whither I have driven you, saith the Lord; and
I will bring you again into the place whence I caused
you to be carried away captive." " But," says one,
" the land of their fathers must not be forgotten," The
prophet, foretelling to the Jews their reverses, their
defeat and conquest by the king of Babylon, and their
long banishment from home, bids them, notwithstand-
ing, " Remember the Lord afar off, and let Jerusalem
come into your mind."
This meeting-house on the hill is our Jerusalem,
If I could gather together the men and women living
3 25
History of the
on this earth whose birth, whose moral training, or
whose conversion make this church God's Jerusalem
unto them, I would speak to them what I say to you
now. When business toils and cares so press with
earthly soHcitude that they narrow communion with
God; when, in the multitude of our thoughts within us,
we are so beset and burthened that we long for the old-
time Sabbath morning when we clustered around our
Sabbath-school teacher; when with father and mother,
brother and sister, schoolmate and playmate, we felt
that this old house was full of Sabbath fragrance ; when
the feverish pursuit of worldly good or the alluring
entanglements of temptation so crowd out our religion
as to make us indifferent to the moral and spiritual
training which we have received throug'h the instru-
mentality of this church; when the throes of cankering
care and the darkness of sorrow, the stings of dis-
appointment and the depths of despondency, may make
us think that the God of the old church is not our
friend; when we would fill the life that now is with
more of the life which is to come — whatever your con-
dition on the earth, wherever you live on the earth,
let the meeting-house on the hill be in your mind.
The Pastors
The initial step in the organization of the Claysville
Presbyterian Church was taken, as has been intimated,
when Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar invited
the Rev. Thomas Hoge to preach the Gospel in this
village. This invitation was soon followed by the
.26
Claysville Presbyterian Church
organization of this church, seventy-five years ago
to-day.
The Rev. Thomas Hoge was a native of Ireland,
whose participation in the Irish Rebellion of 1798
caused him to flee to the United States, where he be-
came the founder of the branch of the family which
bears the name. He landed in Philadelphia, and after
a short sojourn in that city went to Carlisle, Penn.
During the period which embraced his residence in the
latter place and its neighborhood he married Miss
Elizabeth City Holmes. During the interval between
his arrival in Carlisle and his marriage, he conducted
an academy in Northumberland, Penn. Afterward
we find him at Greensburgh, Penn. From Greens-
burgh he removed to Washington, Penn.
The Presbytery of Ohio received Mr. Hoge as a
licentiate from the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland, on
April 17, 1816, and ordained him to the ministry as an
evangelist on January 21, 1817.
As a member of the Presbytery of Ohio Mr. Hoge
acted as Stated Supply of the churches of Upper Ten
Mile and East Buffalo.
The name of Thomas Hoge appears as one of the
members constituting the Presbytery of Washington
at its organization, October 19, 1819.
Mr. Hoge discharged the duties of the Claysville
pastorate until some time in the year 1826, when, at his
own request, the relation was dissolved by the Pres-
bytery of Washington. After an interval of two weeks
he commenced his labors as Stated Supply, which con-
tinued until about the middle of the year 1828. In
1830 the congregation earnestly requested Mr. Hoge
27
History of the
to return to his former pastorate. He acceded to its
request and was again installed. During the interval,
Mr. Hoge had been engaged in evangelistic work and
had organized a church at Mount Nebo, near Wash-
ington, Penn. During the same interval the Clays-
ville Church had been supplied by appointments of
Presbytery. The people seemed willing to call a Rev.
Abner Leonard. Mr. Leonard, however, decHned the
acceptance of a call.
The second pastorate of Mr. Hoge continued until
1835, when the relation was again dissolved at his own
request, and he was dismissed to the Presbytery of
Philadelphia. Having served his generation accord-
ing to the will of God, he fell asleep in Jesus, 1846.
Mr. Hoge's successor was the Rev. Peter Hassinger,
who was born near Newark, Del., November 24, 1801.
Entered Princeton Theological Seminary in 1824; or-
dained by the Presbytery of Erie, October i, 1828,
and of the twenty-five years of his ministerial life in
Pennsylvania, spent the three years extending from
1836 to 1839 ^s pastor of this church. In 1853 he
changed his residence from Pennsylvania to Illinois,
and after serving six churches in the latter State, he
closed his life as a Presbyterial Missionary, dying at
Lebanon, 111., on January 24, 1890, in the ninetieth
year of his age. It was my privilege once to meet Mr.
Hassinger at a meeting of the Synod of Illinois, when
he impressed me as a sincere, humble man of God,
thoroughly devoted to the work of his Master. The
reading of the record of the Princeton Catalogue has
made me feel that his record, along with that of the
patriarch Job, is on high.
28
Claysville Presbyterian Church
In my boyhood there were stories afloat concerning
peculiarities of Mr. Hassinger. He seems to have
been noted for his closeness in financial matters. Most
probably this was true. However, the records of the
contributions to our Boards and the bequests of his
will show that his accumulations were consecrated to
God. If a faint recollection serves me aright, I think
that Mrs. Hassinger, while her husband was preach-
ing at Somerset, Penn,, paid a visit to Claysville.
Mr. Hassinger's residence was in the house which
was once my own home, and which now stands in the
rear of Mr. W. C. Anderson's store. At that time it
was in the place now occupied by Mr. Anderson's
store.
The thirteen years which followed Mr. Hassinger's
pastorate was what may be fitly designated as the era
of the Stated Supply. The first minister in this rela-
tion to the church was the Rev. John Knox, w*hose
labors were confined to the years 1840-41. I have
a perfectly distinct recollection of Mr. Knox in
the pulpit — indeed so distinct that I hear to-day the
sound of his voice. I remember also that he was pres-
ent in the pew behind that occupied by our family
one Sabbath during the early ministry of Mr. Mc-
Carrell. Mr. Knox was an extreme Abolitionist, and
by his fanaticism brought discredit not only on his
usefulness and success as a minister, but on the good
cause in defence of which the country poured out its
treasure and its blood. I have understood that Mr.
Knox was no ordinary preacher, and that in the course
of everyday life he was a genial companion. His wife
was one of the Gordon family, whose home in the
29
History of the
vicinity of Washington, Penn., is so well known. His
death took place some years ago, and it has been the
common report in this community that he forsook the
faith which once he had preached.
During the years 1841-42 this church was under the
care of the Rev. William Wright. Mr. Wright was a
native of Scotland, and, as I remember him, was very
energetic and earnest in the pulpit. I also recall a
religious service on a week-day afternoon which he
held at our house when we lived on the site now
occupied by the First National Bank building. After
one year's service Mr. Wright returned to Scotland.*
The next supply was the venerable and venerated
David McConaughey, D.D., LL.D., the able and faith-
ful President of Washington College. I remember
nothing of the matter of Dr. McConaughey's sermons,
but I have a distinct impression to-day of the restless-
ness of a boy under their great length. I remember
that once during the doctor's ministry a travelHng
Episcopal minister was holding a series of meetings
in the Methodist Episcopal Church. A number of
persons of the Presbyterian congregation thought that
they would take the privilege of an occasional hear-
ing, expecting to attend the usual afternoon service at
their own church. After the service at the Methodist
*The fact that the church's records for a period of ten or
twelve years cannot be found is said to be due to Mr. Wright,
who, according to report, carried them to his native land.
Our friend, Mr. Joel Truesdell, remarks that Mr. Wright was
a fine preacher, and was so inclined to the customs of the
Associate branch of Presbyterianism, with reference to the
singing of hymns, that he himself composed a version of the
Psalms to be sung by the people.
30
Claysville Presbyterian Church
Church was completed, I was one of a number who
stood at the junction of the alley and the meeting-
house lane, waiting for the close of the morning
service at the Presbyterian Church. We waited and
waited and waited, until as the hour hand approached
the figure two, the congregation commenced to empty
itself into the meeting-house yard, The procession
down the lane was led by Mr. William Humes, who, in
his shirt sleeves, was speeding his way homeward,
sawing the air most vigorously with his arms. On
being hailed by our company, he said that the doctor,
on account of the length of the service in the morning,
had promised a shorter meeting in the afternoon.
Some one made a remark about the length of the
service. I can see Mr. Humes now as, with every
feature of his dark face growing darker, he shouted as
if forbearance had ceased to be a virtue, " It was outra-
geously long."
A boy seven or eight years of age could not under-
stand Dr. McConaughey's sermons, but he carries to
this day the conviction that when he looked at that
old ambassador of Christ he saw a man of God. I
will never forget a communion Sabbath which oc-
curred during his ministry here. The old man had
talked about it for weeks. As he stepped from his
carriage that Sabbath morning, I think that I scarcely
ever saw a more finely dressed person. Hence I came
to the conclusion that he felt it to be a great occasion.
Dr. McConaughey was followed by the Rev. Joseph
Gordon, concerning whom I retain no recollection but
that of his personal appearance as a scholarly, refined,
and spiritual man.
31
History of the
Mr. Gordon was licensed by the Presbytery of
Washington, April 19, 1843. He was dismissed to the
Presbytery of Coshocton, April 17, 1845,
The successor of Mr, Gordon was the Rev. John
Miller, whose stature was commanding and whose
pulpit work was quite impressive. Mr, Miller's wife
was a daughter of the Claysville Church, being Miss
Rebecca, the daughter of Mr. James Warrell, whose
home gave the name to that portion of the National
Road known as Warrell's Hill. Mr. Miller was li-
censed by the Presbytery of Washington, October 4,
1843, ^"^ dismissed to the Presbytery of Allegheny,
April 16, 1 85 1.
The next prophet in this valley of vision was
Nicholas Murray, whose praise is in all the churches
of Washington Presbytery, We all know the romantic
story of his introduction to the Christian ministry.
As he prophesied from Sabbath to Sabbath, the dry
bones of the Claysville Church began to show signs of
life, A sermon from the text " Strengthen the things
which remain that are ready to die " gave him occa-
sion to say that it had been proposed in the Presbytery
of Washington to give the church of Claysville over to
die. Professor Murray went through these churches
like a flaming seraph, helping believers to Heaven and
sinners to Jesus when he was not, for God took him.
And now we come to the golden age of the past
history of this church — the thirty-five years' pastorate
of the Rev. Alexander McCarrell, six years as stated
supply and twenty-nine years as pastor. In the As-
sembly Minutes of 1844 the roll of licentiates in the
Washington Presbytery reads thus : " John Miller,
32
Claysville Presbyterian Church
Thomas M. Newell, Joseph Gordon, and Alexander
McCarrell."
Mr. McCarrell commenced his labors at Claysville
in October, 1846, preaching for half the time, the other
half being given to Unity in Greene County, which
united with Claysville in his support. It was not long
until he ceased to preach at Unity. He continued as
stated supply at Claysville until his installation as
pastor, December 16, 1852. Death severed the rela-
tion, April 18, 1881. No man during his Hfe con-
tributed more to the spiritual, moral, material, intel-
lectual, and social good of this town and country than
Dr. McCarrell. It was the aim of his life to help
everybody and every good thing in the community.
He kept pace with the spirit of the age. He prepared
the boys for college.
Soon after Dr. McCarrell's death I poured out my
heart in a tribute to his memory, which was published
in the Claysville Sentinel. I do not know that I can
do better than repeat that tribute on this occasion.
ALEXANDER MCCARRELL, D.D.
An English family has the following sentence as
its motto: "Through hardships to the stars." The
voice of Inspiration informs us that " They that be
wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament;
and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars
for ever and ever."
A life closed on Monday, April i8th, which linked
these thoughts together. The history of Alexander
33
History of the
McCarrell is appropriately summed up in the senti-
ment: througih the faithful preaching, the sincere
tears, the unceasing prayers, the unwaning self-denial,
the modest ambition, the uncompromising truthful-
ness, the loving devotion of a pastorate of thirty-five
years to the stars. It is true that one star dififereth
from another star in glory, but when the day revealeth
every man's work of what sort it is, we cannot help
but think that eternity will mark its estimate of Alex-
ander McCarrell's ministry in a star of no mean mag-
nitude.
The year 1846 dates the commencement of this pas-
torate. There are those living who will recall the
waste place in Zion in which he summoned God's little,
scattered, divided band to rebuild the walls of Jeru-
salem — the careless and wicked community in which
he lifted the standard of the Cross. The National Road
rises before us thronged with the tide of travel as it
flowed east and west. We hear the peal of the coach-
man's horn and the crack of the wagoner's whip. The
community is agitated by the Mexican war. The Gos-
pel ministry of the neighborhood, of which there was
not a more honored and beloved member than our
deceased brother, numbered, among others, the patri-
archal Hervey, the fervent Stockton, the precise Al-
rich, the dignified McCluskey,* the dialectic Eagleson,
the eloquent Murray, the weighty Sloan, the gentle-
* " The dignified McCluskey," not without humor. A mem-
ber of the Claysville Church who slept a good deal at church,
wanted a transfer to West Alexander, but Dr. McCluskey
remonstrated, and said that he didn't want any of those sleepy
fellows from Claysville.
34
REV. JAMES L. I.EEPER, D.D.
1195049
Claysville Presbyterian Church
mannered Fleming, the fatherly James McKennan,
the flaming Cyrus Dickson, the honest Dr. J. W. Scott;
that one whom we delight to honor to-day, Dr. Brown-
son, and our worthy brother, Dr. Lester; the positive
Pomeroy, the sweet-spirited Alfred Paull.
The whole course of the McCarrell pastorate is sur-
charged with precious and pleasant memories. Many
who are already in Heaven, and many who are on the
road to Heaven, were, at its commencement, drunk-
ards, profane swearers. Sabbath breakers, and haters
of everything good. The winds of church disturbances
might blow more or less fiercely, yet no gale was
strong enough to break its anchorage. It contributed
a respectable quota to the rank and file of the min-
istry. It never preached a sermon that did not con-
tain a clear statement that Jesus Christ was man's
only hope. It helped the dying to the shore of the
dark river, as it illumined that river with the lamp of
the Gospel. It entered the sick-room as the angel of
consolation. It was that word in season to the weary,
which strengthens the bereaved. It left no road un-
travelled — no home neglected within the vast circuit
of its parish. In its official visitations the spirit of
Paul went from house to house, testifying repentance
toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.
Its catechetical classes showed that a lover of the truth
was laboring in doctrine. It was the right arm of the
Sunday-school. The glorious record finds its appro-
priate setting as poetry presents the pastor of this
pastorate as one whose deeds were
" Like a living, breathing- Bible — tables where
Both covenants at large engraven were ;
35
History of the
Gospel and Law on heart had each its column,
His head an index to the Sacred Volume ;
His very name a title page ; — and next,
His life a commentary on the text."
The pastorate which has just closed is in a great
measure the history of the Claysville Presbyterian
Church. It has left its moulding impress upon the
church and the community. The future history of the
church is unwritten; but no mere sentiment is ex-
pressed when it is declared that of those who, in the
hereafter, take up the fallen standard, no one will fill
his niche more faithfully — round his Hfe-circle more
accurately — exemplify the Right more wholesomely
— work for Christ more lovingly, than Alexander
McCarrell.
iMr. James L. Leeper, a graduate both of the College
and Seminary of Princeton, was called to the vacant
pastorate, and was ordained by the Presbytery of
Washington, September 13, 1882. In 1886 he re-
signed to accept a call to the First Church of Reading,
Penn. In 1888 he was invited to the charge of the
Second Church of Fort Wayne, Ind., where he is
laboring with great success. Of marked pulpit ability
and of untiring pastoral activity, Mr. Leeper left an
abiding impression upon this region.
The present pastorate, that of the Rev. Frank Fish, a
graduate of the Western Theological Seminary, began
in May, 1886, and his energetic, evangelical spirit as-
sures us that the old church will take no step backward.
As we sum up the pastorates, we are impressed with
the value of biblical preaching, sound doctrine, thor-
ough spirituality, and faithful pastoral labor.
36
REV. FRANK FISH
ClaysviUe Presbyterian Church
The Elders
Joseph Donahey, Sr., September 20, 1820, living for
God in his children and children's children;* Archi-
bald Brownlee, September 20, 1820, a name so frequent
in the church records of Washington County as to
make one of the tribes of God's spiritual Israel; Barnet
Bonar, November 26, 1820, a man v^ith the courage
of his convictions; Dr. John Hair, November 28, 1824,
cut down in the midst of his usefulness; William Mc-
Lain, February 5, 1832, to me always venerable and
apparently stern, yet really full of the temper and spirit
of Christ; George McConaughey, by nature a gentle-
man and by grace an intelligent Christian churchman;
Robert Woods, 1841, so genial and kind; Hugh Craig,
March 17, 1850, a' specimen of meekness, quietness,
and reliability; John Hoon, March 17, 1850, a man
who, when he found Christ, held on to Him ; Nicholas
Bearly, March 17, 1850, so keen in intellect; Alexander
K. Craig, April 19, 1857, the whole community so
mourned him that the heartsore is still fresh; Joseph
Donahey, Jr., June 21, 1857, so quick in temper, posi-
tive in opinion, unyielding in decision, yet withal the
subject of a consecration that laid his open pocket-
book at the feet of Jesus; John McLain, June i, 1863,
his walk with God the path of Enoch; Thomas S.Irwin,
June I, 1863, a rigid devotee of order, yet no better
* A person says that once during Mr. Hoge's ministry
Uncle Joseph Donahey, who was clerk at the time, fell asleep
and awoke in a rage because he was awakened at Mr. Hoge's
request.
37
History of the
neighbor; John Sawhill, June 2y, 1869, respected by
everybody; Thomas Henderson, June 27, 1869, my
father's and mother's friend, who now hves in God;
Dr. Frankhn P. Scott, June 27, 1869, a wilHng spirit;
Hugh McClelland, June 27, 1867, one of the youngest
old men I ever knew; Thomas Ritezel, December 23,
1883 (I don't remember when I did not know him.
He was always so mature in his thought and ways that
he must have been fifty years old when he was born.
Tommy Ritezel, who would not honor thy memory?
A purer, truer spirit never breathed in Claysville);
John A. Dickey, December 23, 1883, serving God in
his generation; Joseph R. McLain, December 23, 1883,
always energetic; Dr. George Inglis, December 23,
1883, a name which recalls the cradle of Presbyterian-
ism; Andrew Henderson, December 23, 1883, never a
busier worker for the Master; James McKee, who
finished the work which God gave him to do.
The Congregation
We are told that the early audiences which gathered
before the wooden tent of 1820, averaged from one
hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty persons.
The Presbytery reports the Claysville Church as
follows :
1821.
1824,
1829.
1830.
1831.
1832.
Mr. Hoge, pastor 19 members.
" 51
Vacant 116
Mr. Hoge, pastor 116
" "9
" " 127
38
Claysville Presbyterian Church
1833
1834
1837
1838
1839
1842
1843
1844
1846
Mr. Hoge, pastor 130 members.
" 133
Mr. Hassinger, pastor loi "
" 118
Vacant 114 "
66
Wm. Wright, stated supply. .68 "
Vacant 63 "
50 "
When Dr. McCarrell commenced his work there
were sixty-two members. During his pastorate 353
were added to the church on examination, and 150 on
certificate — total, 503; and of these, 103 were baptized.
A membership of 320 stands to the credit of the church
on the Assembly Minutes of 1895.
It would scarcely be in accordance with the conven-
tional use of the term to call the Claysville Church a
revival church. Yet I only speak the truth when I
say that the only revival I know of in its history is the
revival of pure and undefiled religion, which character-
ized the whole of the McCarrell ministry. That minis-
try was not a succession of spiritual upheavals, but it
was the revival which evinces itself in constant, steady,
quiet growth in numbers and in spirituality.
During the first half of the forties the ways of Zion
literally mourned as the sparse gathering in the meet-
ing-house on the hill impressed even a boy with
the fact that of this community comparatively few
came to the solemn feasts. The silent Sabbaths of
this period were many, and as the direct consequence
the moral, to say nothing of the spiritual tone of the
village and the surrounding country, had reached a
39
History of the
very low and discouraging condition. But in 1846 the
tide of spiritual life and power commenced to rise, and
from the fifties until to-day, the Claysville congrega-
tion has been a centre of local influence and has had
a good report from without.
I propose now to invite you again to stir up your
minds in the way of remembrance with a typical Lord's
Day of the period, which includes the later forties and
the whole of the fifties. It is a summer Sabbath. Our
fathers knew nothing of vacations. It is one of those
fine June days which make the Sabbath a bridal of the
earth and sky. The farm is at rest. The week-day
hum of the village is hushed. The doors and windows
of the meeting-house are thrown open. Between nine
and ten o'clock the Sunday-school contingent com-
mences to gather, and the town and country children
exchange their greetings. The individual boys and
girls who composed those Sunday morning parlia-
ments have faded from my recollection, with one ex-
ception, and that was Curry's Bill Wallace. But Mc-
Carrell's " Fan " drops her load at the hitching rail,
and each one makes his or her way into the church.
Dr. McCarrell identified himself so closely with the
Sunday-school that to his dying day he was a con-
stituent part of it. And why a Sunday-school should
be less to any preacher, where providential circum-
stances do not intervene, than the morning and even-
ing congregation, I cannot conceive. In those days
the " Church Hymn Book " furnished our Sunday-
school music. We sang over and over " The Rosy
Light is Dawning," " Another Six Days' Work is
Done," " Dear Saviour, if these Lambs should Stray,"
40
(See obituary notice in Appendix)
Claysville Presbyterian Church
" With Humble Heart and Tongue." After the de-
votional service the exercises commenced.
I want to lay a wreath to-day on the grave of
Thaddeus C. Noble, my first Sunday-school teacher.
The most prominent class in the school was the pas-
tor's Bible class. As I look from these after years
upon that Bible class I do think that it was the Gos-
pel net of the early days of the McCarrell ministry.
There was no time wasted on Bible puzzles, but the
Word of God was presented as able to save the soul.
In connection with that class I recall Joe Craig as
mighty in the Scriptures. In the course of time an
institution grew up which we youngsters styled " the
old boys' class." It was a kind of a theological ex-
change, where Squire McLain, Squire Craig, Squire
Bearly, my father, and others, used to search the
Scriptures, and reason out of them. The Interna-
tional Lesson System had not yet come into vogue,
and there was a sort of go-as-you-please use of the
Bible. In my opinion, the best exercise of that day
was the repetition of verses of Scripture committed
to memory. Of course, the Sunday-school Conven-
tion crank would have pointed his ridicule with our
Sunday-school. But when the judgment day makes up
its record, methinks that we will understand its use-
fulness as Heaven's roll-call announces the writing of
the Lord that this and that one were born there. One
of the great events of my boy-life was the Sunday-
school celebration of July 5, 1847. Dr. McCarrell
talked about it for weeks. The West Alexander School
joined us. Claysville swarmed with people. The pro-
cession was almost, if not altogether, the length of the
4 '41
History of the
street. I recall the form of Dr. McCluskey. Joe Hen-
derson, in behalf of the West Alexander, presented our
school a lot of testaments to be used for prizes. Then
came the feast, and we children were stuffed with gin-
ger-bread and cold water.
But while the Sunday-school is in session, let us
stand in the centre of the yard and look to the four
points of the compass. I turn to the north, and Dutch
Fork sends forth the Meloys, Zeiglers, Hayburns,
Moores, and Craigs; Brush Run its Flacks and
Georges; Taylorstown its Hodgens, Williamses, Wil-
sons. I look to the east, and down Warrell's Hill pour,
by carriage, horseback, and afoot, the McLains, Dona-
heys, Craigs, Currys, Hendersons, and Warrells. I
cast my eye along Warrell's lane, and from the south
pour into the pike the Lucases, the Woodses, the Fin-
leys, the Alexander girls, John McLain, the Sawhills,
and the Stewarts. I look to the southwest, and along
come the Hairs, the GrifiEiths, the Herrons, the Aber-
crombies, the Millses, the George McConaugheys, the
Porters, the Robinsons, the Johnnie Andersons. I
look to the west, and there appear on Porter's Hill the
Lairds, the Dennisons, and the Sam Bonars.* I look
* Says a venerable member of this church ; " The first
carriage I ever saw at Claysville was one that Mr. Donahey
owned — a sort of a wagon of a thing. A great curiosity it
was. I scarcely remember whether it had any springs or not."
Another person says that when she and her brothers and
sisters were children that their father and mother would ride
to church on horseback, and that they (the children) would go
in their darg feet until a short distance from town, when they
would put on their shoes, the usual place for the shoeing being
Billy Knox's lane. ^
42
Claysville Presbyterian Church
down in the direction of the village, and as the men and
women of my week-day acquaintance enter the church-
yard, I cannot help but wonder at the transformation
Sunday clothes do eflfect upon the inhabitants of Clays-
ville. It was the day of the frock coat, the old-fash-
ioned swallow-tail, and satin vest; and when you saw
Mr. Cooper in his Sunday suit, Squire Bearly in his
swallow-tail. Pap and Anthony Mealy in their broad-
cloth, John Hoon in his store clothes, George Mc-
Conaughey looking like a doctor of divinity. Major
Irwin hke a mihtary officer off duty, Thomas Hender-
son in dark brown, Asbury Caldwell, and Jim Finley,
and Jim Woods, and Chester Abercrombie, and the
rest of the young men who sat in front of the choir, all
as spick and span as the weaver and tailor and shoe-
maker and soap and water and hair oil could make
them; and, along with all these, when you saw our
mothers in satin and silk and bombazine; the girls,
young and old, in every color of the rainbow, and on a
warm day clad in white; and the children in the re-
action consequent upon the torture of the Saturday
night scrub — I feel now, as I did then, that I was proud
of the appearance of the Sunday congregation of
Claysville. Since those golden days I have seen many
brilliant congregations, and have felt the influence of
architecture, music, and eloquence in impressing the
eye, the ear, and, I might say, the heart, btft none of
them have wiped out memory's picture of the sturdy,
plain, Bible-believing, God-fearing, and God-worship-
ping folk that were wont to cluster around Jesus on
His day in the meeting-house on the hill.
The summons of the opening hymn or anthem by
43
History of the
the choir soon filled the pews. The first psalm or
hymn was then sung. It was followed by the long
prayer. Then the Scriptures were read. Another
hymn was sung. Then came the sermon, the after-
prayer, and the last hymn, in their order. The an-
nouncements were made either before or after the last
hymn.
A chapter of reminiscence, brimful of inspiration,
yet not without its sprinkle of humor, might be written
on the service of song in the Claysville Presbyterian
Church. My first recollections are of a raihng in front
of the pulpit, surmounted by a Bible-shaped piece of
wood, behind which one, if not two, clerks stood to
lead the singing. I have a very distinct impression of
Messrs. Robert Woods and George McConaughey. I
feel to-day the wonder with which, while as a boy, I
used to notice the width to which Mr. Woods was wont
to open his mouth as the Lord filled it with music. Mr.
McConaughey always seemed to start a tune as if he
expected a breakdown, but when the people found out
what he was after, they came to the rescue. The
congregation used Rouse's version of the Psalms of
David in my early childhood. I have not forgotten a
Sunday that my father brought home a new hymn-
book.
The days were when the singing school was the
glory of this region. The singing master was one of
the institutions. The Todd family, of West Alexander,
were famous as instructors in the art of sacred music.
Just about the time of Dr. McCarrell's advent a sing-
ing school was in progress, under the direction of a Mr.
Pease. He instructed both the adults and the young
44
REV. A. A. MEALY
Claysville Presbyterian Church
people by means of the violin. He closed his school
with a grand concert. As the result of his work a
choir was organized, than which, in my opinion, Clays-
ville never had a better. For several years it was a
feature of the religious service which attracted the
whole country around. I recall Mr. James Finley,
the tenor; Mr. James Woods, the boy alto, and Miss
Sarah McLain, the soprano. Another valuable in-
structor in sacred music was Mr. Coburn, who could
not live without his cup of tea. For several years
Mr. George Lucas was the faithful leader of the
choir, and after his departure to another State Mr.
Alexander K. Craig led the service of praise un-
til God called him to join the redeemed in the new
song of the heavenly choir. According to our fathers
and mothers, the music book of the early days was the
" Missouri Harmony." In my day it included the
" Psalmodist," the " Christian Minstrel," and the
" Presbyterian Psalmodist."
" And how my thoughts go backward
To Sabbaths gone so long,
When voices death and years have hushed
Joined with mine clear and strong !
" In ' Dundee,' ' Mear,' and ' Brattle Street,'
Or ' Windham's ' solemn strain.
Glad ' Coronation's ' joyous notes
And 'Lenox,' soft refrain."
The thought of that old choir stirs me with the plain-
tive flow of " Hebron," the sweet measures of " War-
wick," the heavenward lift of " Shirland," the longing
of " Balerma," and the heavenly swell of " Frederick."
45
History of the
The service of prayer in our village had one char-
acteristic that tried the boys of the period, and that v^as
length. The long prayer was generally long.
The sermons of the time consulted length rather
than brevity. I grew up on three generally, but often
four particulars; three, four, or five remarks under each
particular, concluding with a repetition of the sermon
by way of application. I think that it is in accordance
with the truth to say that the Claysville pulpit through-
out its whole history has been given to the scriptural,
logical, doctrinal, uncompromising, direct, practical,
pastoral preaching of Christ and Him crucified.
The red-letter days of these olden times are the com-
munion seasons. The sacrament, Sunday, was an oc-
casion which drew the people for miles around. Or-
dinarily there was a four days' service, and generally
one, and sometimes two or three, strange ministers
were present. The reception of the elements by the
communicants in their pews was an innovation of com-
paratively late introduction in Claysville. To my
mind the venerable custom of celebrating the Lord's
Supper by means of tables has the advantage over
the modern custom in the way of impressive solemnity.
I, as a boy, felt that Christ was very near as the com-
municants approached and left the table; the opening
hymn being " 'Twas on that Dark and Doleful Night."
And those communion addresses — Noah, the
preacher of righteousness; Moses, the expounder of the
law; Samuel, the faithful minister; Elijah, the prophet
of fire; Isaiah, touched with the live coal; spirit-filled
Peter; the loving John; the irresistible Stephen; de-
voted Paul, once and again at the table of their Lord
46
Claysville Presbyterian Church
and ours — made our communion seasons the house of
God and the gate of Heaven. And oh, how many of
the ministers of God who deHvered those addresses,
how many of the communicants who heard them, have
gone through that gate to drink the new wine with
their Master in the kingdom of Heaven!
Right here I must interject a word about the weekly
prayer-meetings, which were held from house to house,
at the homes, alternately, of the villagers and country
people. To have tried to find anything sensational
in them would have been to search for hen-teeth. But
the same Jesus was in their midst that made the upper
room what it was on the Day of Pentecost, and the
house of Mary, the mother of Mark, what it was when
the prayed-for Peter knocked at the door a delivered
man.
Dr. McCarrell also, for many years, alternated the
winter season with the pastoral visit and the cate-
chetical class. The pastoral visit was a simon-pure
dealing of God with the individual soul, and the cate-
chetical class an effort to ground the people in the
truth.
Now, for a little while, let us transfer ourselves to a
Sabbath service of the olden time. On the right of the
pulpit sat the family of the pastor, the little boys then,
now in the service of the church. Back of that I recall
the Meloys and the Mehaffeys. Going toward the
door, on the north aisle, in the first wall seat on the
north side, are Mr. and Mrs. Hoon, who are still here
to testify for the Master they have served so long.
Then comes that grand figure, Mrs. Flack, the daugh-
ter of Dr. John Anderson. Mr. Mealy is still left to
47
History of the
recall that bright-faced wife and mother whose old age
was like Heaven's benediction. And our old family
pew awakens thoughts unutterable. Oh, how much of
the Henderson, and, I believe, all of the Stewart pew,
are in yonder city on the hill! And those quaint
Alexander girls — Faithy's voice once heard was never
forgotten — as it made a person think of the North
of Ireland. Then the Bearlys and Brockmans, and
next, the Mecrackens; and how can I have forgotten to
notice the Ritezels in my way? I turn my face toward
the pulpit, and two or three seats before the pulpit
are filled with the young men of the community. Then
come the Lucas pew and the Craig pew; and I
think of John as, with some college companion, he
enters the door; of Joe as he never turned an eye from
the preacher; of Will as he sleeps in a southern land.
Then Mr. Humes's ; the McLains, ever present. I walk
over to the southwestern corner, and where are Mr.
and Mrs. McConaughey and Warren and Wylie and
Kate? — in Heaven. Then Mr. John Kelley's pew.
Stately Mrs. Dennison has exchanged her pew for a
place in the heavenly temple. Going along the wall
pews of the south aisle, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper are not
there; but I will never forget the white head that rose
above the entrance of the next pew — Mr. Warrell.
The next was occupied by Mr. Campsey. Not far be-
hind was one whom everybody knew to respect — John
Laird, than whom the Claysville Church never had a
more devoted adherent. I turn my face to the pulpit
again, and, passing along, see once more the Finleys,
the Woods, and the Donaheys.
And as I recall the families of this church and think
48
Claysville Presbyterian Church
of such women as Mrs. William McLain; as the faith-
ful Mrs. McCarrell; as the noble Mrs. Flack; as that
exhibition of womanly dignity, Mrs, Thomas Miller,
formerly Mrs. Truesdell; as that quiet and noble
character, Mrs. Hugh Craig; as the motherly Mrs.
Robert Woods; as the excellent Mrs. McConaughey
(and this period can only properly be finished by
speaking of every wife and mother of the Claysville
Israel) — I say that if the ancient Horace felt that it
was something that he had raised a monument more
enduring than brass, I feel that in the history of this
church, in the men and women both at home and
abroad, in the citizens and soldiers who have been
faithful to their country and their God, the wives and
mothers of the Claysville Church, because they were
as brave as Deborah and as prayerful as Hannah, and
as true to their children and grandchildren as Eunice
and Lois, and as true to Christ as the women at the
cross and sepulchre, are able to point to this church,
this community, to those who live in it, to those who
have gone from it, and say, as Sir Christopher Wren
said of St. Paul's in London: " If you wish to see our
monument, look around you."
Thus I have endeavored to restore the palimpsest
of the Claysville Presbyterian Church. De Quincey
tells us that " a palimpsest is a membrane or roll
cleansed of its manuscript by reiterated successions."
He instances a parchment that originally contained a
Grecian tragedy. In the course of time the monks
wanted to use it, and made it the transcript of one of
their legends. Then the age of chivalry came on, and
somebody used it for a knightly romance.
49
History of the
Now, the chemistry by which the monks thought
that they had erased the Grecian tragedy — by which
the authors of the knightly romance thought that they
had erased the monkish legend, was imperfect. The
more elaborate chemistry of modern times has restored
the original writing. The incidents which link this
church to every individual directly or indirectly con-
nected with it are like the original writing on that
parchment. That writing may be written over with
the toils and triumphs of earth, so written over that
we may not see this church's story of the individual.
But just as the romance from that Greek parchment,
which some young girl may have adored, has perished;
just as that knightly legend which may have deluded
some boy has gone — so all that this whole world is to
the men and women, the boys and girls of this church,
will fade away to show the story of what this church
has done for these men and women and boys and girls
in relation to eternity. I accommodate to my purpose
the following:
Chiselling for God
A stone-cutter was at work under his shed, chiselling
on a block of stone, preparing it to be placed in the
walls of some edifice. A friend stepping in asked the
question:
" What is to be done with this stone? "
" I have not seen the plan," was the stone-cutter's
reply; and on he went with his chiselling, content pa-
tiently and steadily to work day by day, getting it ready
for its designed place — chiselling, chiselling, chiselling.
50
Claysville Presbyterian Church
The history of the Claysville Church is the history
of many patient and earnest workers who spent this life
chiselling for God — the faithful minister in his ap-
pointed sphere, the humble and devoted wife at home
among her children, and a thousand other workers
who steadily pursued their course, day after day, until
life ended.
They did not " see the plan," and yet they toiled in
hope. They knew that the great Architect knew
exactly where to place each stone in the building, and
they went on with their chiselling — it may be, beguil-
ing the weary hours with a song.
Think you the Master will not pay them their wages?
As in His presence they are enjoying their wages, they
speak to us from Heaven, saying: " He will." *
* Chancellor Day,
51
History of the
A Sketch of Alexander McCarrell, D.D.,
THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS PASTOR OF THE PRESBY-
TERIAN CHURCH OF CLAYSVILLE, PENN.
By Rev. William H. Lester, D.D.,
Pastor of the Presbyterian Church of West Alexander, Penn.
The Psalmist's words: "The righteous shall be in
everlasting remembrance," may justly be applied to
our departed brother. " None knew him but to love
him." His pleasant manners, tender heart, fervent
piety, strength of Christian character, and devoted Ufe
impressed every one who knew him. These qualities
under God were greatly blessed in promoting the
growth and strength of this church, and making it a
power in this community.
Alexander McCarrell was born near Cross Creek
village, Washington County, Pennsylvania, June 15,
1819.
Very precious memories clustered around the hour
of his childhood. His father, a moral man, did not
become a professed follower of the Saviour till quite
late in life. His mother was a devoted Christian. Her
example, prayers, and instruction left their impress
on his son — the " child of the covenant." He has
told me it was the aim and effort of her life that he
should become a minister of the Gospel. When only
52
y^di^U'i^^U^ '^^^'-^i^l^U^
Claysville Presbyterian Church
a small boy he was a constant attendant with her in
the Sabbath services of God's house. In early life he
became a subject of grace, and united with the church
of Cross Creek, of which John Stockton, D.D., was the
pastor. The mother found in her pastor a faithful
adviser and helper. He assisted him in his studies and
prepared him for Washington College, from which he
graduated in 1841. Brother McCarrell regarded Dr.
Stockton as his " father in the Lord," and always spoke
of him with great respect as the man who, more than
any other, turned him to the Saviour and the ministry.
In the college his record was that of a diligent stu-
dent and a consistent Christian. In the town his
" godly walk and conversation," his straightforward
life, commended him to all. He was taken under the
care of the Presbytery of Washington in 1841. His
theological studies were under the direction of Dr.
Stockton. He was licensed April 17, 1844, and or-
dained by the same Presbytery, April 17, 1845. With
a heart full of the love of Christ and souls, he was
ready for his work. Previous to this he was married
to Miss Martha McLain, a daughter of Mr. Wm. Mc-
Lain, long a ruling elder in this church. Her brothers,
John and Joseph McLain, served in the same ca-
pacity many years, and have been a tower of strength
in the Claysville Church, withholding no labor,
money, or self-denial to promote its welfare.
In his wife he found a " helpmeet " worthy of his
heart and work. I have seldom seen a woman of more
tender, prayerful, consecrated spirit, whose whole life
was so bound up in her husband's work of saving
souls as was hers.
53
History of the
He began his ministerial life in the church of Unity,
Greene County, Pennsylvania, in 1846, giving a part of
the time as a supply to the church of Claysville. His
labors were so blessed that in 1852 he was called to
this church, over which he was installed as pastor.
This relation continued until his death, 1881. The
Unity home was a log cabin in the yard of Mr. Brad-
dock, and was given to the young preacher without
rent. The salary was small ; the house had one room,
and the conveniences were few. But no murmurs
came from the occupants, no self-denials discouraged
them in their work; they sought not theirs, but them;
they labored to save souls, and they gathered in the
harvest.
Three children were born to them, on whom God
set the seal of His covenant blessing. Like their
parents, the sons have done a noble work in the church
of Christ. The father has told me that in the old log
church of Unity and the log house of one room they
had some of the happiest days and most blessed en-
joyments of their lives. The spirit of Christ in the
heart makes everything bright and beautiful, even in
poverty.
His life-work was, however, done in Claysville.
Thirty-five years he prosecuted his vocation without
interruption and with great success. His zeal was un-
tiring and his labors unremitting. In all this period of
pastoral work he took no vacations for bodily recu-
peration and rest, until infirmity of health compelled
it. He toiled on perseveringly, hopefully, until he
could no longer work for the Master. He died in the
pastorate — ^the harness on when he fell. This was
54
Claysville Presbyterian Church
what he had prayed for and wanted — to go direct from
the earthly labor to the unending rest.
I will notice briefly only a few traits of the character
and life of Brother McCarrell.
I. He was an industrious man, prompt and faithful
in everything he undertook. He was not a man of
profound and varied learning. The constant calls in
all his ministerial life — for pastoral work, visiting the
sick, attending funerals outside his own congregation,
preaching in revival services in other churches, and his
own pulpit work — forbade this. His Bible, Concord-
ance, and a few wisely chosen books, well read, were
his books of study. As our congregations lay side by
side we were close neighbors, and I knew more of
his preaching than that of any other man in the Pres-
bytery. He did not point his sermons with sensational
incidents — nothing to provoke levity fell from his lips.
The sacredness of his calling and solemn import of his
message forbade that. " I am determined to know
nothing but Jesus Christ and Him crucified " per-
vaded every discourse. Doctrine, duty, and experi-
ence were happily combined in his pulpit efforts.
When he stood at the sacred desk his appearance was
so solemn, his words so tremulous with emotion, and
his soul so full of the tender and beseeching spirit of his
Lord, that every hearer felt he was in the presence of a
man who had just come from the mercy-seat and re-
ceived the anointing of the Holy Spirit. One sermon
preached in my own pulpit, in a time of revival, espe-
cially impressed itself on my mind. It was Eliezer's
appeal to the father of Rebekah for the daughter's
hand in marriage to Isaac, his master's son. " And
55
History of the
now if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master,
tell me; and if not, tell me, that I may turn to the right
or to the left." It was a plea full of tears with souls
out of Christ for an immediate decision in the matter
of personal acceptance of the Lord Jesus. The sermon
was full of power. It was greatly blessed of God. I
felt then that he came up to Paul's measure of the
true minister of the Word: " We are ambassadors for
Christ, as though God did beseech you by us, we pray
you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." It
was " in the demonstration of the spirit and of power."
He often preached in this manner. No one ever
laughed under his sermons. Multitudes here wept.
With him the pulpit was too sacred a place for trifling.
He was a born Presbyterian. The doctrines set forth
in the Catechisms and Confession of Faith, he heartily
accepted and preached. They were the creed of his
head and heart; yet he was a man of broad Christian
views, ready to reach a fraternal hand to those who
differed from him. The first step looking to the union
of the old and new school branches of the church was
taken at the Assembly's meeting in Newark, N. J.,
1864. Brother McCarrell was a member of that As-
sembly. About forty ministers and elders signed a
paper, of which he was one, in the interest of a union
of the two branches of the church. I asked him why,
in the absence of instruction from his Presbytery, he
did it. He replied, " It was my own act. We are all
brethren, and we must come together to do the Lord's
work."
2. In the spirit and power of prayer he surpassed
almost any one I have ever known.
56
Claysville Presbyterian Church
In reading the private diary of Dr. Andrew Bonar,
published since his death, I was impressed with the
spirituality of the man born of prayer. A large part
of his waking hours was spent in prayer. He did
nothing except by prayer. I was reminded of Brother
McCarrell. He was a wrestling Jacob. His face, like
that of Moses, shone from spiritual contact with his
Lord. There was not a house in the Claysville con-
gregation that was not hallowed by his prayers. In
the sick-rooms of his people he was welcomed because
he was a " son of consolation " and prayer. I have
often seen him so overcome by his feelings that he
could hardly go on with the service. Not far from the
close of the Civil War, when brethren were alienated
and the spiritual condition of our border churches was
low, I assisted in a week's preaching before his winter
communion. The Sabbath was a stormy winter day;
the congregation was small, and there seemed to be
very httle religious interest among the people. He
and his wife were in great distress over the condition
of the church. They went apart to pray. That night
it was all changed. The Spirit of the Lord came upon
the assembled people. More than a score of anxious
souls asked for prayer; the meetings were continued,
and a large number were converted and united with the
church. On the night of that Pentecostal outpouring
there was little sleep in that house. I could hear that
man and woman, through the thin partition that sepa-
rated our rooms, agonizing in prayer until near the
break of day, and, Jacob-like, they prevailed.
3. Justice requires I should speak of Brother Mc-
Carrell as a pastor. In this work he excelled. He
5 57
History of the
never was a strong and robust man, yet in all seasons
and in all kinds of weather, at all hours, he responded
to every call His winning way, warm heart, and
well-chosen words fitted him for pastoral work. In
sickness, among his own congregation and those not
of his church, he was sought for and his labors greatly
blessed.
He was wise to win souls for Christ, Those in doubt
and spiritual trouble went to him for guidance and
counsel. He lifted the veil from many a doubting
Christian, and led him to the light and to peace. Anx-
ious inquirers sought him, and his happy way of deal-
ing with them was blessed in their conversion.
He went to every house in the congregation each
year in pastoral visitation, except the last year or two,
when he was unable through bodily infirmity. He
knew every member of the congregation personally,
and every child he could call by name. He loved the
children; they loved him. They felt at home with
him and enjoyed his company. He had the happy gift
of speaking to people in the matter of their personal
salvation as much as any man I have known. Like
one of whom I have read, " he looked on every man
he met as a possible saint," and he sought to have him
become such. There are peculiar persons in almost
every church, hard to approach on the subject of their
personal salvation. Pastors hesitate to do it. He did it,
even in the case of strangers, with such rare tact as
never to give offence and always to have a courteous
hearing.
He was a man of remarkable promptness in keeping
his appointments and fulfilling his engagements. He
58
Claysville Presbyterian Church
never failed unless providentially hindered, and his
brethren felt he could always be depended upon. His
last work was done when he was physically unable for
it. It was the writing of the annual narrative of the
state of religion of this church for Presbytery. It was
written with a trembling hand, and when read he had
gone to the redeemed in Heaven. He was for many
years the stated clerk of the Presbytery. The minutes
were always correctly kept and with great care. If the
writing clerk blundered, or his work was illegible, it
was the frequent remark, " Brother McCarrell will
make it right when he transcribes them on the Presby-
terial Book," and it was left to him.
He was a conscientious and systematic giver to the
benevolent work of the church. He never had a large
income, but as money came to him, a tithe was set
apart to the Lord's cause. After his death a sum of
money was found in an envelope, appropriately
marked, to be given to the Boards.
He was an excellent Presbyter. He was wise in
shaping and carrying on the business of the body. I
never knew him to lose the balance of his temper, or to
say an unkind or ungentlemanly word in debate. His
self-control was such that he was never called upon to
retract or modify any remark he had made. While this
spirit of kindness was so manifest, this readiness to de-
fer to others was so marked, he was firm in his convic-
tions and decided in his opinions. When it came to
matters of conscience and principle he was as immov-
able as a rock. He would not yield to any man. He
was not obstinate, but unflinchingly true to what he
believed to be right. The last time he was at Pres-
59
History of the
bytery was in December, four months before his death.
A matter to which he was opposed came before the
body. It was postponed to the April meeting for final
action. He arose to his feet with difficulty. He could
only stand by holding the back of the seat, so weak
was he. He said, " If that matter is passed upon af-
firmatively by this body, and I am alive, I shall enter
on the record my solemn protest." These words were
the last words he ever spoke in Presbytery, and were
indicative of the man.
4. He was a happy Christian. It could not be other-
wise. With a buoyant and a hopeful temperament, a
heart full of love to his Saviour, and a life so conse-
crated and abounding in good works, he must be a
happy man. He was too modest to parade his piety
to the world, but every one who knew him felt the
power and charm of that " life which was hid with
Christ in God." The peace within was manifested in
the spirit of the man in his daily life, which was a
'* living epistle read and known of all men."
The blessed fruit of his work and life abounded. Its
hallowed influence radiated in an ever-widening circle
beyond all measurement. Many young men were pre-
pared for college by him who have entered the minis-
try. The impress of his character was stamped on
them, and, like him, they have and are doing good
work for the Master. Had he done nothing but this,
his life would have been well spent and worthy of
honor.
In the early years of his ministry, when his health
was comparatively good, he was sought for in pro-
tracted meetings by the neighboring churches. He
60
/
Claysville Presbyterian Church
was adapted to this work and blessed in it. He la-
bored in many revivals in these congregations, and was
greatly blessed.
But he was married to the church of Claysville. He
could say to it, as Paul said to the Corinthian Chris-
tians, " Ye are in my heart to live and die with you."
If I were to give the result of Brother McCarrell's life
in a word, it would be the Church of Jesus Christ in
Claysville.
When he came to this congregation its membership
was small, its spirituality low, and the outlook not
flattering. He " coveted no man's silver or gold."
He came to " strengthen the things which remained
and were ready to die," He gave himself without any
reserve to the building up of this Zion. He had
anxious days and nights. He sowed in tears. He
reaped in joy. His labors were full of blessing. " What
hath God wrought! " This church, large in numbers,
abounding in liberality, vigorous in Christian work,
united in the bonds of the Spirit, is the God-given fruit
of his life.
He was not a perfect man. No one was so con-
scious of this as he. A sight of himself made him
humble and kept him close to the fountain of all fitness
and strength. I only claim for him the ability and
gifts of other men, made attractive and useful by the
indwelling presence of his Lord.
In closing, I venture to lift the curtain of his home
life, and see him as the husband and father of the
family. Mrs. Martha McL. McCarrell was his long-
time wife and companion, passing away only a few
months before him. They were heart-satisfied with
6i
History of the
each other. So united were they in affections, so similar
in their sympathies, and so one in their Hfe-work, it
" seemed as if they had but one soul between them."
She entered into his work with all her heart, and was
no less loved and respected, and, in her sphere, no less
useful than he. It was in every sense a Christian
family. The children look back to that home, so full
of precious associations of their sainted father and
mother, with thankful hearts. When he was at the
meetings of Presbytery or preaching for his brethren,
he was contented until his work was done; then noth-
ing could keep him. His feet and heart were home-
ward turned. Their children were the children of the
covenant, becoming God's children in early life. The
eldest son, Hon, S. J. M. McCarrell, is an elder in the
Presbyterian Church in Harrisburgh, and a faithful
worker in the vineyard. Rev. Wm. A. McCarrell, of
Shippensburgh, Penn., Rev. J, J. McCarrell, of Mc-
Keesport, Penn., and Rev.T. C. McCarrell, of Waynes-
boro, Penn., are ministers in the Presbyterian Church.
It is enough to say of them — they honor the home,
name, and religion of their parents. One daughter,
Lizzie, was called to the Master in her girlhood, giving
comforting assurance of her interest in the Lord.
The summons to " come up hither " first came to the
wife. It was a gradual failing of her strength, extend-
ing through several months. I was attending a fu-
neral of one of my members who died while on a visit
in Claysville. It was only a few days before her death.
I went to their house. She was calm, and peacefully
awaiting the time of her departure. It was just such
a closing of the earthly life as one might look for in
62
REV. \V. A McCARRELL
REV. J. J. MCCARRELL, D.D.
Claysville Presbyterian Church
one who had lived so near her Lord, and experienced
so fully of His saving grace. It was the going down of
the sun without a cloud in its sky. Her husband was
broken-hearted. He leaned upon me and wept bit-
terly. " She has been so much to me in my life, my
home, and my work, I cannot give her up. It will be
well with her — but what will I do? " were some of the
words that came from his stricken heart. From that
time he began to fail in health. Her death he re-
garded as the call to him to set his house in order. Un-
able to discharge his duties in the churcn, his people
relieved him of all care in this respect by securing
supplies for the pulpit for several months, a kindness
he fully appreciated. He sometimes thought he would
be able to take up his work, but rest brought no return
of strength. He gradually sank, and entered into
rest, April i8, 1881.
I was often with him during his illness. He was
assured of his interest in the Saviour. I think doubts
never troubled him as the end came near. It was a
happy going home. His funeral service was in the
church where he had so long preached, conducted by
his brethren of the Presbytery. A mourning congre-
gation followed him to the grave, in which he was
gently laid by his four sons, at the side of their sainted
mother. They rest securely under the covenant prom-
ise of " even so them that sleep in Jesus, will God bring
with Him."
63
History of the
Address
By Henry Woods, D.D,,
Professor of Latin in Washington and Jefferson College, and Pastor of the
East Buffalo Presbyterian Church, Washington County, Pennsylvania.
It is my privilege to bring greetings to the church
of Claysville on her diamond birthday from a congre-
gation which has special reasons for taking a deep in-
terest in these exercises. East Bufifalo and Claysville
churches occupy contiguous territory. They were or-
ganized near the same time. They were united in 182 1
under the pastoral charge of Rev. Thomas Hoge,
neither of them having had a settled pastor before. Sev-
eral ruling elders exercised their office in both churches
at different periods in their lives. In this list are found
the names of Joseph Donahey, Sr., Archibald Brown-
lee, and Joseph Donahey, Jr. Many ties have been
formed in the passing years between the families of
these churches, that make them sharers in the mem-
ories we have met to embalm.
When I first came into this vicinity to enter Wash-
ington College as a student, the Claysville Church was
creditably represented in the halls of learning, as she
has been ever since. The affectionate regard in which
the pastor. Rev. Alexander McCarrell, was held by the
students whom he had encouraged to seek a liberal
education, was known to all associated with the Clays-
64
Claysville Presbyterian Church
ville boys. At that time my acquaintance began with
the historian of to-day, Dr. Birch, an acquaintance
which soon ripened into a friendship which years have
only served to strengthen. As his guest in his father's
house, I spent a Sabbath in Claysville in the summer
of 1861, and preached for Dr. McCarrell at one of the
services. From that occasion dates my personal knowl-
edge of the man whose influence is still felt so widely
and so beneficently in this church and community.
My intercourse with him was only occasional, until I
became a member of the Washington Presbytery. In
the first year of my labor at Upper Ten Mile, we as-
sisted each other at communion services. Similar ex-
changes were made several times after I began my
ministry at East Buffalo, and to me they were seasons
of refreshment and delight, the memory of which I
would not willingly let die. As a guest at the manse,
when the services in connection with the Lord's Sup-
per were protracted more than is now customary, it
was my privilege to get something of an inside view of
the home life of one of the godliest men I have ever
known. And gradually was he sustained in his work
by his excellent wife, whose influence was a power not
only at home, but throughout the congregation. It
was not difficult to understand how, from a family
reared in such an atmosphere of virtue and piety, three
sons should go forth to preach the Gospel, and the only
other son become an elder in the church and an active
worker in every good cause. To this devoted pastor
and his wife the congregation was a larger family, the
care of which was upon their hearts in a degree only
less than the solicitude felt for their own children. The
65
History of the
pastor possessed, in a measure that is quite unusual,
the confidence of the young people. Their plans in
life were freely communicated to him in the assured
expectation of sympathy and helpful advice. More
than one case has come incidentally to my knowledge
of young persons from this church who, being brought
under conviction of sin while attending school or
college, at once opened correspondence with the
home pastor as the one to whom they could open their
hearts with least reserve. At all points he touched
the lives of those under his ministry. Never have I
witnessed more sincere and afifecting tributes of love
than were rendered by his people when this good
man was borne from this sanctuary to his last resting-
place.
As a member of Presbytery, Dr. McCarrell was es-
teemed and loved by his brethren. He was in many
respects a model Presbyter. He was punctual in his
attendance upon the meetings, ready for any duty that
was laid upon him, and free from bitterness toward
those from whom he differed in opinion. For fifteen
years he served as stated clerk, longer than any other
incumbent of the office in the history of the Presbytery.
The records of these years are a monument of his ac-
curacy and painstaking.
At the invitation of the session, I presided at the
meeting of the congregation which elected Rev. James
L. Leeper as Dr. McCarrell's successor. His ministry
was characterized by vigor and success, and its termi-
nation by a call to another field of labor was regretted
by all his co-presbyters. With the present pastor, my
interchanges have been frequent, and to him and his
66,
Claysville Presbyterian Church
people I tender hearty congratulations on this interest-
ing anniversary.
May Heaven's richest blessings be upon them in the
coming years, and upon the work that is to be done in
this part of the Lord's vineyard.
67
History of the
Address
By James I. Brownson, D.D., LL.D.,
Pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Washington, Penn.
The Rev. Dr. James I. Brownson spoke in sub-
stance as follows : *
Having declined to deliver one of the formal ad-
dresses of this most interesting occasion, for reasons
wholly personal, I come the more gladly, under a modi-
fied invitation, to unite my warm congratulations with
those of the brethren who have preceded me. If I may
not rival their eloquent utterances, I can promise not
to be behind them in fervent sincerity. With each of
them I can heartily say: " Blessed is the church and
happy must be its officers and members who can re-
count the mercies of a covenant-keeping God which
have crowned the fidelity of nearly three generations of
Christian believers."
I am not a stranger to the history which has been
passing so richly in review before us to-day. I knew
the founder of this church, Mr. Hoge, as a college
boy gets to know a venerable leader in society. I was
a fellow-student with Mr. Gordon, who for a time sup-
plied the pulpit here. The Rev. Peter Hassinger and
myself for several years occupied contiguous pastor-
* Because of the lack of time this address was delivered
only in part.
68
Claysville Presbyterian Church
ates in Westmoreland County, after his service in this
field. And I sat at the feet of Dr. McConaughey, my
revered college president, for nearly four years. Of
course, therefore I can add my testimony to their char-
acters, and to what I know must have been their
excellent work in the early upbuilding of this church.
The fruits of their evangelical labor still abide and will
ever, though they sleep. Besides the immediate good
accomplished by each in his own time and way, they
were joint contributors to the subsequent stability and
growth of the memorable pastorate of the late Dr.
Alexander McCarrell, so admirably portrayed by the
historian of to-day and other speakers.
At my entrance as a co-presbyter and pastor in 1849,
I found this faithful servant of the Lord in the middle
of his service as stated supply, which ripened into the
responsibihties of a pastor in 1852, and as such he con-
tinued under manifest blessing from Heaven until
death took him to his reward in the spring of 1881.
It was his habitual dehght to " feed the flock of God,
over which the Holy Ghost had made him overseer."
It was his holy passion to " preach the Gospel both
publicly and from house to house." The material of
his official and private ministration was just that pro-
vided in the divine Word for souls made hungry and
thirsty for the bread and water of eternal life by the
Holy Spirit. His centre of Sabbath proclamation was
the cross of Christ, and through the week, whether
upon the street or in the homes of his people, as op-
portunity offered, this great theme inspired his tongue
and was radiant from his face. With the fullest sym-
pathy of a godly wife, his was ?. model Christian home,
69
History of the Claysville Presbyterian Church
to which troubled souls resorted for spiritual counsel,
and from the altars of which his own children went
forth in like spirit to be living epistles of the same
grace. Written upon many human hearts, as well as
in the Book of God, are the indelible records of that
personal, family, and pastoral consecration. The wit-
nesses thereof shall never die.
But, after all, death does remove even the saints of
God from mortal sight. " The fathers, where are they?
And the prophets, do they hve forever? " Where now
are your Hoges and your McCarrells; your Donaheys
and Brownlees; your McLains and your Craigs, and
your long line of officers and unofficial members of this
church; your good men and good women who filled
these seats in the past generations? Yet the church is
still, as ever, the living " body of Christ," with its
" members in particular." And this body, by vital
union with its head, shares his perpetual life. Newer
methods await younger hands and fresher blood for
their execution. Rev. James L. Leeper has carried
with him to his successful Indiana pastorate the record
of four years of very active and prosperous labor here,
and the Rev. Frank Fish, taking up the mantle of the
long succession in 1886, has, with ability and zeal,
brought down the history to this completed period of
three-quarters of a century. Let now the congratu-
lations of his brethren intermingle with those of his
people upon his attainment of the Lord's best earthly
gift to a pastor — a prudent wife! Long may they live
in joyful union, and large may the company be who
shall hail them as instruments of their salvation in the
day of the Lord Jesus !
70
The Thomas Hoge Memorial Tablet
The Thomas Hoge Memorial Tablet
The diamond anniversary of the Claysville Presby-
terian Church awakened the deep interest of the ven-
erable Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, 1728
Spruce Street, Philadelphia, Penn., a daughter of the
Rev. Thomas Hoge. The result of that interest ap-
pears in a bronze tablet, which is described as follows
by the Claysville Recorder:
The members of and visitors at the Presbyterian
Church will take great delight in what is per^haps one
of the finest tablets in Western Pennsylvania outside
of the larger cities. It is to the memory of the father
of the Claysville and other Presbyterian churches, that
grand old man — Rev. Thomas Hoge. It is placed on
the wall back of the pulpit, about six feet above the
rostrum, and facing the audience. The tablet is of
solid bronze, four feet ten inches wide by two feet four
inches high, with round corners. Its weig^ht is 375
pounds. Around the outer edge is a beaded border;
within is scrollwork about four inches deep. Next
the inscription is more beaded work, turning oflf at the
upper and lower central points and forming an oval
frame for the excellent bust portrait of Rev. Hoge.
It is the work of the artist-sculptor, Joseph Lauber,
whose fame is not merely national, and whose portrait
6 73
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
of General Washington adorns the national Capitol.
To the left of the portrait is the inscription:
IN LOVING MEMORY OF THE
REV. THOMAS HOGE, BORN MAY 3,
1775, IN TYRONE, IRELAND ; DIED
JANUARY 23, 1846, IN PHILADEL-
PHIA, PENN'A. FIRST PASTOR AND
FOUNDER OF THIS AND OTHER
CHURCHES.
To the risfht are these words :
FOR OTHER FOUNDATION CAN
NO MAN LAY THAN THAT IS
LAID WHICH IS JESUS CHRIST.—
I COR. 3:11. THIS TABLET IS
ERECTED BY HIS DAUGHTER,
ESTHER HOLMES HOGE PATTER-
SON.
The formal unveiling of the tablet took place on
Thursday, October 8, 1896, and is the subject of an
article in The Presbyterian Banner, October 14, 1896,
from whidh is taken the following extract :
HONOR TO A FIRST PASTOR
The town of Claysville, Washington County, Penn.,
is located in the midst of a fertile agricultural region,
74
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
and was a place of considerable note in the palmy days
of the " National Pike," along which wagons and
stage-coaches moved in almost unbroken procession,
and its inhabitants and also those of the neighborhood
have been distinguished for general intelligence and
sturdy Presbyterianism. But it is not too much to
say that the special distinction of Claysville clusters in
and around its Presbyterian church, of which the Rev.
Thomas Hoge was the founder, and from which so
many ministers of the Gospel have gone forth.
To the people of that church last Thursday was a
delightful occasion. On that day a tablet to the mem-
ory of its first pastor. Rev. Thomas Hoge, donated by
his daughter, Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, of
Philadelphia, was unveiled in the presence of a large
assembly, consisting mostly of the grandchildren and
great-grandchildren of those to whom Mr. Hoge had
ministered. The tablet, which is an exquisite work of
art, by Tiffany & Co., of New York, was presented to
the church, on behalf of Mrs. Patterson, by J. T. Noble,
Esq., and was received, on the part of the congrega-
tion, by the pastor, Rev. Frank Fish. Rev. Henry
Woods, D.D., of Washington and Jefferson College,
read a sketch of the church of Buffalo, of which he is
pastor, also founded by Mr. Hoge. Rev. G. W. F.
Birch, D.D., LL.D., of New York, sketched the times
in which Mr. Hoge lived and labored, his character,
and the results of his work. Among those present
were the following descendants of Mr. Hoge: Robert
Patterson (a son of the donor), wife and son, of Pitts-
burgh, and Miss Hazeltine, a granddaughter of Mrs.
Patterson.
75
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Remarks
Made BY J, T. Noble, of Claysville, Penn., October 8, 1896,
IN Presenting Tablet of her Father by Mrs. Esther
Holmes Hoge Patterson to the Claysville Presby-
terian Church.
This church has just completed seventy-five years of
history, and is just entering upon the last quarter,
which, when completed, will make up the century of
history. In reviewing the seventy-five years already
completed we see much that is gratifying as well as
much that is full of sadness, such sadness as neces-
sarily comes to every church and every community.
There has been much that has required hardships
and self-denials in connection with this church, but,
after all, its work has been crowned with such suc-
cess as to make the hardships and self-denials on
the part of so many, matters of much gratification and
pleasure. The work of this church has been full of
successes, and it has proven itself in a multitude of
respects the equal of any church in the Presbytery of
Washington, and I think I may say the equal of any
church of like character in Western Pennsylvania. Its
success has been so great as to engage the interest and
admiration of people in many parts of the country. In
one respect I may say this church stands out very
prominently, and I think I may justly say as promi-
76
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
nently perhaps as any church in the Washington Pres-
bytery — for the number of young men who have be-
come prominent in professions, as well as for the large
number of useful citizens it has furnished to so many
different communities.
To no one is this church so much indebted for its
success and usefulness, and this community as well for
its rapid advancement and development, as it is to the
early efforts and privations of the Rev. Thomas Hoge.
Mr. Hoge bore much the same relation to this com-
munity and this region of country as did the Rev.
John McMillan and the Rev. Thaddeus Dodd to the
regions of country east and south of us. A man of
sturdy Scotch-Irish ancestry, well educated at the Uni-
versity of Edinburgh; possessing more means than was
usually found among ministers of that day; having a
strong and vigorous constitution, but with no desire
to be a preacher in that popular sense which his op-
portunities, his education, and his general surroundings
would have naturally afforded to him — but his whole
ambition and desire seemed to be simply to establish
Christianity permanently in this section of country
which was then upon the frontier. He was a man of
great ability. His ability was oftentimes recognized
by the frequency with which he was elected Moderator
of the Presbytery, and the many years that he served as
its Stated Clerk; and then, again, by being chosen as
Moderator of the Synod. No minister of his time was
more highly regarded by his co-presbyters and co-
workers than was Mr. Hoge; and, had he so desired,
his ability and the high order of his attainments, the
high esteem in which he was held, on several occasions
77
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
would have placed within his reach some of the most
desirable pulpits in the country; but he preferred to
labor in the way of extending and establishing Chris-
tianity by building churches in this new and unde-
veloped country, a work for which he was especially
fitted and for which he seemed to be especially set
apart. The hardships which he endured in coming on
horseback each and every Sabbath morning for a
period of fifteen years to preach to this congregation;
the hardships which he endured visiting the widely
scattered famiUes in times of sickness and death; giv-
ing at least one-third of the money himself necessary
to erect this building, which has been occupied by
this congregation for the last sixty-five years — so fully
demonstrates his singleness of purpose, and his devo-
tion to that single object — to found Christianity in this
region of country for the generations that were to
come after. He was largely instrumental in having
this church erected at a time when the early settlers
were practically without money and were struggling
to clear these farms and establish homes for themselves
and families. Mr. Hoge was also valuable to the peo-
ple of this section at that time in many directions, pro-
curing for them assistance in the way of money, and
also furnishing them valuable information and advice
as to how to clear their farms and build themselves
homes, he being a man who was deeply interested in
agriculture and famiUar with the wool-growing indus-
try, a nucleus to the thrift and prosperity which this
industry afterwards brought to all our people.
From 1835 to 1846 this church was supplied by a
number of pastors who, on account of a variety of
78
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
reasons, encountered many difficulties in endeavoring
to maintain this church organization, and not until the
year 1846, when the Rev. Alexander McCarrell became
pastor, were the splendid foundations that were laid by
Mr. Hoge builded upon successfully. Mr. McCarrell
possessed such qualities as enabled him to successfully
supplement the work which had been begun by Mr.
Hoge. He continued the pastor of this church for a
period of thirty-six years. Under his ministry the
lines put out by Mr. Hoge were extended in many
directions, and through his earnest labors this church
grew continuously. He was not a man who depended
so much upon the eloquence of preaching in the
achievement of his success, but by sympathy and the
gentleness of his nature, and the wonderful regularity
with which he performed all his duties, he most suc-
cessfully extended the boundaries of this church and
accomplished a remarkable work, so that wlien he laid
down his life in the year 1881, he left this church a
legacy to his successor, a stronghold whidh will stand
forever as a monument especially to the memory of
the Rev. Thomas Hoge and himself.
Mrs. Patterson, a daughter of the Rev. Thomas
Hoge, living at 1728 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, is the
only surviving member of the Rev. Thomas Hoge's
family, she having attained the ripe old age of eighty-
six. She is a most interesting and remarkable woman;
remarkably active in body, and still taking the keen-
est interest in all passing events. Mrs. Patterson has
more than an ordinary interest in this church to-day
because of her father's connection with it, he being
its founder and first pastor; and she herself feels that
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to some extent she assisted her father in rocking it in
the cradle of its beginning, because it was her custom
in her early life to visit this church and the people of
this section with her father, being acquainted with
many of the old famiHes whose names are recorded on
the first rolls of this church, a number of which she
has recalled to me in conversations during the last
year. Mrs. Patterson feels a just pride in the history
and the work of this church. When we come to re-
view the seventy-five years of history of this church it
is certainly a history that is remarkable, and affords
to no one more, perhaps not so much, gratification
and pleasure than to Mrs. Patterson. Her father was
to this country a benefactor, whose memory the mem-
bers of this congregation and the people of this region
will ever cherish and hold in lasting regard.
Mrs. Patterson has desired me to convey her kind-
liest greetings to this congregation to-day, and to as-
sure you that in the closing days of her Hfe she retains
the deepest interest, in fact an interest that she never
felt before, in the welfare of the people here and the
prosperity of this church. She desires me to say that
it would have given her the greatest of pleasure to
visit these scenes of her early days had it been possible
that her surroundings would have permitted such a
visit. Nothing would have given her greater pleasure
than to have been present at these interesting exer-
cises which are in honor of her estimable father. She
desires me to formally present to you this beautiful
tablet, accompanied with her best wishes for the wel-
fare and for the continued growth of this church, and
hopes that it may ever serve as a reminder of the long
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
years of the labor of love which her father so highly
enjoyed and so earnestly prosecuted in this new coun-
try in his early manhood; a love which he so fittingly
and so feelingly emphasized by preaching his farewell
sermon to the people here in Whom he had such an
abiding interest, from the text, " And finally, Brethren,
I say farewell."
8i
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Reception of the Tablet
By Rev. Frank Fish,
Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Claysville, Penn.
The Committee on Arrangements has given me the
honor, which I gratefully acknowledge, of being the
Claysville Presbyterian congregation's representative
in formally receiving this beautiful, artistic, and costly
tablet — or, at least, the custodianship of it — a solid
work of bronze, 4 feet 10 inches long by 2 feet 4 inches
high, weighing 375 pounds, requiring weeks for its
making; the work of the first artists in the land; a lov-
ing daughter's tribute to the memory of the founder
of our church.
Allow me to say through you, Mr. Noble, the
deputed representative of Mrs. Patterson in the pres-
entation of this memorial of her revered father, that
we heartily thank her for intrusting us with such a gift,
and promise that we will always give it the care that
its value and importance demand.
We thank her for the honor she has put upon us,
the favor she has done us, the lesson she has taught us,
and the blessing she has given us.
We thank her for the honor she has put upon us.
To be the recipients, or even the custodians, of a gift
so costly — such a work of art, so lasting in value and
condition; such an ornament to the building, both this
82
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
and any succeeding building, however handsome — is
no slight honor. We appreciate it.
We thank her for the favor she has done us. The
Rev. Thomas Hoge, in starting this church, opened
up a spring of living waters, which have flowed on in
increasing volume under his own and succeeding min-
istries; a stream of Gospel privileges, church ordi-
nances, Sabbath observance, Bible study, moral and
religious influences, and other blessings which have
purified and ennobled our community, our homes, our
friends, our souls, our lives, and our eternal future.
In starting this church, Mr. Hoge planted a tree of
life, a Gospel tree, whose shade has protected multi-
tudes from the scorching heat of sin and sorrow, whose
leaves have been healing to many a sin-sick soul, and
whose fruit has been the food and delight of saved
spirits, many of whom are now in glory. For starting
this stream of spiritual blessings, for planting this tree
of life, we are the debtors of Rev. Thomas Hoge. Yea,
for this building, now sixty-six years old, itself a monu-
ment to his labors, precious to many from its sweet
associations and memories of loved ones now in
Heaven; of souls borne into the kingdom of Christ;
of hearts cheered, comforted, and inspired, we are the
grateful debtors of Mr. Hoge. As he is thus a man
whom in gratitude we delight to honor, it is a favor to
us when honor is done his memory; when publicity
and permanence are given to his ministry; when this
costly tablet is erected as his memorial to be observed,
studied, and reflected on Sabbath after Sabbath, and to
keep his name and work fresh and bright for perhaps
hundreds of years. Whoso honors our benefactor
83
■" The Hoge Memorial Tablet
does us a favor. For this favor his daughter has done
us, we thank her.
We thank her for the lesson she has taught us. What
a graceful act is this honor done a father! Observers
of the times tell us that the young of these days need
badly to learn the duty of the fifth commandment.
Flippant speech, heedless disregard, slighting treat-
ment, indifferent feelings towards parents, are too
common. What an object lesson of filial respect is
this costly tablet! A picture right before our eyes of
filial love, pouring out treasure on the honored parent.
Were Thomas Hoge to enter that door to-day which
he used to enter, and behold this tablet to his mem-
ory, would not his heart be moved, his lips tremble,
and his eyes fill with tears at this exhibition of a daugh-
ter's love and respect? With this tablet before the
eyes of the children and youth of this congregation,
saying in trumpet tones, " Honor thy father and thy
mother, that thy days may be long upon the land
which the Lord thy God giveth thee," our young peo-
ple will be constantly encouraged and stimulated to
give honor, obedience, and reverence to their parents,
even though at heavy expense of comfort and pleas-
ure. As parents, teachers, and friends of the young,
interested in their welfare and well-doing, we feel
grateful for this object lesson of honoring parents.
Churches and tablets, stone and bronze, will all
crumble into dust, but an act of love, a deed of duty
like this, will never perish. Engraved on God's im-
perishable tablet, the record of this beautiful tribute
to a father's memory and work, with all other deeds
of love and righteousness, will shine out and be read
84
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
with admiration by redeemed throngs when this tab-
let and church and world will be no more.
We thank her for the standard she has set our pulpit
and church. Foundation-layers determine the shape
and character of the building. The founders of our
country — the Pilgrims, the Huguenots, the Quakers,
the Scotch-Irish — determined the Christian, Protestant
character of the United States. So the founder of a
church determines the character of that church. As
this admirably appropriate text on the tablet reminds
us. Father Hoge founded this church on Jesus Christ,
the only foundation for any Christian church, or creed,
or character, the foundation already laid by God Him-
self, the Giver of Christ. On Jesus Christ — ^the Per-
son Jesus Christ, the Gospel of Christ, the Bible of
Christ, as indorsed or authorized by Him, where alone
Jesus Christ is found — were this church of Claysville
and that of East Buffalo founded.
So this tablet, with its record of foundation-laying,
with its scriptural description of the foundation laid,
with the noble face of the human founder visibly set
forth, and his eye now watching the course of this
church from above the pulpit where he himself
preached the old, old Gospel truths, is now a public
plan — the architect's plan — to direct all succeeding
builders how to build up the church and character of
this people, an anchor to hold this pulpit and church
to the old moorings, to Christ and the Bible. In the
shadow of this tablet this pulpit and church cannot,
dare not, drift away into a new theology, another Gos-
pel, a mutilated Bible, a different Saviour. This face
and record of him who laid the foundation true to his
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Master and commission would publicly rebuke and
denounce any such departure.
Will you then, Mr. Noble, extend to Mrs. Patterson
our gratitude and our good wishes? Our desire, hope,
and prayer are that in these last days of her long life
she may more than ever enjoy the calming peace and
the gladdening hope and all the precious promises her
revered father held out here to the people of his day.
As she enters and passes through the valley of the
shadow of death, may she find the Lord Jesus with her,
her Shepherd; His rod and staff comforting her, ac-
cording as her father taught the people here. When
the silver cord is loosed and the golden bowl is broken,
when the fleshly tabernacle is dissolved, and, true to her
father's Gospel, her soul is taken up to Heaven to be at
home with Christ, then may she receive the welcome,
the crown, the home, the glory, her father preached
here, and there may she meet her sainted father, and
be forever with him, in the rest, the song, the service
of the heavenly life; and with him and all her loved
ones enter into all the blessings of the eternal home
he pictured out to the people here. We deeply regret
her inability to be present with us to-day, and our
inability to look upon her face, but if never in this life,
yet in the city of God we hope, by the grace of our
Lord, to be permitted to see her face to face and en-
joy her and her sainted father, to the influence of whose
labors we are largely indebted for our blessed hopes.
May the Heaven of Thomas Hoge's preaching and
enjoyment be the home of us all!
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Address
By George W. F. Birch, D.D., LL.D.
We are here to-day because the history of the
Christian church in this community and the reverent
love of a child and grandchildren for an honored an-
cestor testify, through the tablet which has just been
unveiled, that the good which Thomas Hoge did dur-
ing the seventy and more years of mortality was not
interred with his bones when he was laid in the house
appointed for all living. And while I appreciate the
significance of the poet's appeal:
" Can storied urn or animated bust,
Back to its earth recall the fleeting dust ? "
yet I must say that the face which stands out from this
tablet recalls that command of the Emperor Con-
stantine by which the cities of Greece and Asia were
despoiled of their monuments to add to the attractions
of Constantinople. To this Edward Gibbon refers in
his " History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire " when he writes, " The trophies of memora-
ble wars, the objects of religious veneration, the most
finished statues of the gods and heroes of the sages
and poets of ancient times, contributed to the splendid
triumph of Constantinople," and gave occasion to the
remark of the historian Cedrenus, who observes with
some enthusiasm " that nothing seemed wanting ex-
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
cept the souls of the illustrious men whom those ad-
mirable monuments were intended to represent."
So on this day, when this old meeting-house makes
its mark as the " Westminster Abbey " of Claysville,
the fact that the bas-relief which centres our interest
on this occasion, is an exact copy of a wax portrait
which reproduced its living subject eighty-five years
ago, and that in it persons now living recognize the
founder and the first pastor of the Claysville Presby-
terian Church — ^this fact, I insist, is enough to make
our enthusiasm burst forth in the word: Nothing
seems wanting here but the soul of the good and faith-
ful man whom this admirable work of art is intended
to represent. " Nothing seems wanting," did I say?
Indeed, it does only seem so. For the Holy Ghost has
given us the story of the proto-martyr Abel in order
that we may know that in the faith which has had, does
have, and will have its outcome in the history of this
church, we have the soul, beaming from the eye and
swelling forth from the lip, of this likeness of Thomas
Hoge. For by this church he, being dead, yet speak-
eth. The value of the historical pictures hanging in
the Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington which were
executed by John Trumbull consists in the fact that
the interest in the figures presented in those paintings
finds its reason in the consideration that for the most
part they are the life-likeness which the painter trans-
ferred to the canvas. A fellow-artist paid a high com-
pliment to Gilbert Stuart when he remarked, " How
fortunate it was that a painter existed in the time of
Washington who could hand him down looking like
a gentleman ! " One of the lights of English literature
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
tells us that " portrait painting is painting from recol-
lection, and from a conception of character, with the
object before us to assist the memory and understand-
ing."
So the artist who framed the wax into the life-like-
ness which reappears in this bronze, deserves our
thanks for handing down the one whom we honor to-
day, looking like a gentleman, and has conveyed to us
a character study which it will be the work of this
occasion to delineate. This delineation, rightly per-
formed, will be a demonstration of the Scripture pro-
verb: " The memory of the just is blessed," as it will
be the revelation of a godly parent, a faithful minister,
a public benefactor, an individual contribution which
the Bible has immortalized in the eleventh chapter of
the Epistle to the Hebrews. But if that portrait could
speak, the godly, faithful, benevolent man would tell
us that just as faith-filled Abraham sometimes dis-
trusted God; as patient Moses was impatient; as brave
Elijah fled from Jezebel; as the man after God's own
heart, David, stained his career with an act of gigantic
iniquity; as Time's recording angel has linked forever
Peter's noble confession with Peter's base denial, so he
fought his battle with the imperfections of human
nature, and entered Heaven, not on account of in-
herent righteousness, but on account of imputed
righteousness, as he preached and prayed and lived the
truth set forth in the Thirty-second Psalm:
" Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin
is covered.
" Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not
iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile."
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
And like David in his climb toward Heaven, he made
descents, but every restoration was a higher ascent.
This delineation will also be a demonstration of the
proposition that the undercurrent of the progress of
Christianity in general, and of this church in particular,
in this community, is the ministry of Mr. Hoge. We
are told that " it was long a subject of wonder how
the water is always flowing into the Mediterranean Sea,
whilst there is apparently no outlet, till it was explained
by ascertaining its undercurrents. In 1683 such a
strong undercurrent was discovered, which goes out by
the Straits of Gibraltar. A vessel full of stones was
lowered, and the current was found to be so strong
that it dragged the boat along, despite the upper cur-
rent."
So when human life commenced to congregate in
this town, Mr. Hoge turned into its channel the
streams of that river which makes glad the city of our
God. Once and again the moral current of this church
and community has been in the wrong direction, but
because the force of the undercurrent of the olden
time has not been, to use the word of another, " tran-
sient like Cherith, nor muddy like the Nile, nor furi-
ous like Kishon, nor treacherous like Job's deceit-
ful brooks, nor ' naught ' like those of Jericho," this
church and community have, in the main, shown the
gladness of the city of our God, as the streams of this
undercurrent have appeared in Ralph Erskine's classi-
fication : " the perfections of God, thefillness of Christ,
the operations of the Spirit running in the channel of
the covenants of promised
The sight of this memorial will awaken and make
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
permanent a new interest in the history of this church
and cong-reg-ation. During the preparation of this
paper an issue of the New York Observer came to
hand, and I found in it an item which reads as follows:
" Can the common people be made to take an interest in
history ? It appears that they can be, if only the right means
are employed for that purpose. A much needed step, for
example, has lately been taken in the direction of making
"Westminster Hall, in London, more evidently a symbol of his-
tory to the crowds who every week visit it. A tablet has lately
been put up in the wall close to the stairs which descend
into the crypt, thus marking the position of an archway which
for upward of one hundred and thirty years was the principal
means of access to the old House of Commons. Another
inscription locates the spot where the Earl of Stafford stood
during his impeachment before the House of Lords. It is said
that the Saturday crowds who visit Westminster invariably
throng around a tablet, that has been in position some time,
which shows the place where Charles I. stood his trial. It is
clear that the run of people appreciate history when they know
where the history is."
This quotation is the voice of our own experience.
Every visitor to Washington City stops to think when
he notices on the floor of the Pennsylvania Depot the
brass star that marks the spot where President Garfield
fell. As you ride over the Pennsylvania Railroad from
Monmouth Junction to Freehold, N. J., as you ap-
proach the latter place you pass a signboard with the
inscription," Moll Pitcher's Well/'recaUing the woman
heroine of the bloody battle of Monmouth, which was
no insignificant factor of the success of the American
Revolution. The first time I was in Hartford, Conn.,
I hunted for the site of the Charter Oak, and it was a
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
great satisfaction to read the story carved on the mon-
ument that marked it.
So this memorial will be a memory of childhood; a
permament reminder of the wilderness which saw the
beginnings of this tabernacle of Divine worship; an
index-finger which will help the antiquarian in his
studies of the past.
The proper commencement of a sketch of Thomas
Hoge is a glance at the heraldic story of his name.
From Burke's " Landed Gentry of Great Britain and
Ireland " and other authorities the statement is drawn
which runs as follows: "It is the well-known Nor-
wegian name of many a fierce viking, a word which
recalls the private bands of Northmen who plundered
the coast of Europe in the eighth and ninth centuries,
and who are no inconspicuous figures in the traditional
and probably mythological history of America. The
ancient Scandinavia (the modern Norway and Sweden)
was the home of those Gothic tribes who brought with
them from the cradle of humanity the religion and
language of the Aryan race. Aryan is a name prob-
ably meaning ' noble,' given to themselves by the
ancestors of the leading nations of Europe and India.
As yet they are a small people of Central Asia, feed-
ing their flocks near the source of the Oxus. They
were the direct descendants of Japheth.
" The name may be found in various nationalities,
as follows: Germany, Hoche; France, Hugo and
Hogue; Norway, Hacon and Haug; Holland, Haig
and Hague; Scotland, Hogg, Hoge, and Hog; Den-
mark, Hooch; Saxon, High and Haah. In England
the name is generally written Hogg, but it occurs in
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old family writings and papers as Hoogg, Hogge,
Hodge, and Hoddge.
" The coat of arms of the Hoge family of Scotland
presents — argent, a cross crosslet; sable, between three
bears' heads; erased azure; crest, an oak tree — mean-
ing, I suppose, that the members of the family who
made that coat of arms their sign manual were ready
to lay down their lives to the death in behalf of the
cause which they defended.
" So that the ancient family of Hoge, whether we
spell the name Hogg or Hog or Hoge, was of no vul-
gar origin, as its members have claimed their descent
from one Haug of Norway, a gallant robber and de-
stroyer in his day, who doubtless praised Odin and
Thor by drinking from a cup made from the skull of
a victim.
" The great antiquity of the surname of Hog in Scot-
land will appear, as we learn that its use is coeval with
the retirement of Cospatrick, Earl of Northumberland
about the time of the Norman Conquest. The sur-
name became hereditary in the reign of Malcolm Can-
more, and was first assumed by the proprietors of the
land of Hogstown, in the shire of Angus. In the
bond of submission in 1296 (six hundred years ago)
Alexander Hog is styled Alexander De Hogstown.
We can at least conceive something of the nature of the
environment of Alexander De Hogstown when we
remember that the leading figure in the events which
preceded and resulted in the accession of Malcolm Can-
more to the throne was the Macbeth in whose case
the truth of history has been sacrificed to the fancy
with which William Shakespeare filled its framework.
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So that the man who seems to have been the success-
ful general who led in the revolution which overthrew
Duncan and confirmed his pretensions to the throne —
the man who during eighteen years sustained his
sovereignty, showed liberality to the church, and fell
at last, for aught we know, like a hero — this man
comes down to us linked with the madness of Lady
Macbeth, the murder of Duncan, the ghost of Banquo,
the revenge of Macdufif, as facts attending his career
were transformed by Shakespeare to point the moral
he had in view.
" The heraldic story tells us that one of the Hogs of
Scotland landed in Ireland in 1656. This member of
the Hog family doubtless found Ireland prepared for
his coming by the policy of Oliver Cromwell. The
iron rule of that man of renown had, according to
Macaulay, ' waged war resembling that which Israel
waged on the Canaanites; smote the idolaters with the
edge of the sword, so that great cities were left without
inhabitants; drove many thousands to the Continent;
shipped off many thousands to the West Indies, and
supplied the void thus made by pouring in numerous
colonists of Saxon blood and of Calvinistic faith.' "
So when Thomas Hoge was born, May 3, 1775, the
family which still exists in England, Ireland, Spain, and
the United States had been in Ireland one hundred and
nineteen years. At his birth and throughout his
childhood and young manhood Ireland was in a state
of ferment, political and religious. On the 19th of
April preceding the date of his birth (an interval of
fourteen days), the American Colonists had unfurled
the flag of freedom as a thing to die for at the battle of
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Lexington. It was as a boy who had passed his eighth
year that he heard of the treaty of peace which con-
firmed Great Britain's acknowledgment of the thirteen
colonies as free and independent States. A boy would
not be indifferent to the circumstances set forth by
John Mitchel in his " History of Ireland," that " All
eyes in Ireland were turned to this impending strug-
gle, and the obvious community of interest which
Ireland had with those transatlantic colonies, made
their case the theme of conversation in private circles
as well as of debates in Parliament. The attention of
the country was still more strongly aroused when the
Continental Congress, amongst other forcible ad-
dresses issued at this time (1774), directed one to the
* People of Ireland.' That prince among orators, that
distinguished Henry Grattan, declared that the * lib-
erties of America were inseparable from the liberties
of Ireland; that the rights of America were the only
hope of Ireland and the only refuge of the liberties
of mankind.' "
From the time that Mr. Hoge drew his first breath
until he fled from his native land during the Rebellion
of 1798, the noise of conflict filled his ears. Mr. Hoge
grew up in a country which a statesman declared to be
unfit to govern itself on account of its " corrupt aris-
tocracy," " ferocious commonalty," " distracted gov-
ernment," and " divided people." An integral part of
Mr. Hoge's life in Ireland is related in Green's " His-
tory of the English People," as follows : " An associa-
tion of * United Irishmen,' begun among the Protes-
tants of Ulster with a view of obtaining Parliamentary
reform, drifted into a correspondence with France
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
and projects of insurrection. The Catholic peasantry,
brooding over their misery and their wrongs, were
equally stirred by the news from France, and their
discontent broke out in the outrages of ' Defenders '
and ' Peep-o'-day Boys,' who held the country in
terror. For a while, however, the Protestant land-
owners banded together in ' Orange Societies,' and
held the country down by sheer terror and blood-
shed.
" At last the smouldering discontent and disaffection
burst into flame. Ireland was, in fact, driven into
rebellion by the lawless cruelty of the Orange yeo-
manry and the English troops.
" In 1796 and 1797 soldiers and yeomanry marched
over the country, torturing and scourging the ' crop-
pies,' as the Irish insurgents were called, in derision
from their short-cut hair. Their outrages were sanc-
tioned by a Bill of Indemnity, passed by the Irish
Parliament, and protected for the future by an Insur-
rection Act, and a suspension of the habeas corpus.
Meanwhile, the ' United Irishmen ' prepared for an
insurrection which was delayed by the failure of the
French expeditions, on which they had counted for
support, and, above all, by the victory of Camperdown.
Atrocities were answered by atrocities, when the revolt
at last broke out in 1798. Loyal Protestants were
lashed and tortured in their turn, and every soldier
taken was butchered without mercy.
" The rebels, however, no sooner mustered fifteen
thousand men strong, in a camp on Vinegar Hill, near
Enniscorthy, than the camp was stormed by the Eng-
lish troops, and the revolt utterly suppressed."
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I have not been able to learn the precise part which
Mr. Hoge took in the Rebellion of 1798.
As Dungannon, a town in his native county Tyrone,
was the scene of the famous Convention of the Vol-
unteers in 1782, the probability is that the youth of
seventeen was a champion of the constitutional auton-
omy of Ireland.
The significant factor in the career of Thomas Hoge
is his attendance at the University of Edinburgh,
which must have commenced, if it were not completed,
during the second decade of his life. As to the advan-
tages which he enjoyed at that notable seat of learning,
it is enough to say that the faculty numbered among
its members some of the greatest scholars of the
age.
Dugald Stewart was in the chair of moral philoso-
phy, who, in Lord Cockburn's estimate, " was one of
the greatest of didactic orators, recalled the finest of the
old eloquent sages," and warranted the assertion that
" no intelligent pupil of his ever ceased to respect
philosophy, or was ever false to his principles, without
feeling the crime aggravated by the recollection of the
morality that Stewart had taught him." As the course
of moral philosophy, besides ethics proper, included
lectures on political philosophy, the thought is sug-
gested that Thomas Hoge's connection with the Irish
Rebellion may have been his application of Stewart's
lectures on the theory of government.
The head of the Edinburgh faculty during Thomas
Hoge's student life was the distinguished Principal
Robertson, whose rank in philosophy and literature
will be understood as I name the historic triumvirate
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
of the eighteenth century — Hume, Robertson, and
Gibbon.
As I name Sir Walter Scott, who made forgotten
history sparkle with the electric fire of his imagination;
Francis Jeffrey, who brought to the Edinburgh Re-
view the work of at once " the best critic and the best
reviewer of die age"; Lord Cockburn, whose pleadings
as a lawyer were remarkable for clearness, pathos, and
simplicity; Francis Horner, the great political econo-
mist; Sydney Smith, who was too human, too witty,
too tactless, too buoyant, too logical, and too inde-
pendent to reach the preferments on earth which lay
within the scope of his capabilities; Henry Brougham,
who, as he drove off one morning from the presence
of Samuel Rogers, the poet, occasioned the remark of
the latter, " There go Solon, Lycurgus, Demosthenes,
Archimedes, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Chesterfield, and
a great many more in one post-chaise " ; Thomas
Brown, afterwards so remarkable for his originality
and subtlety in the domain of psychology; James
Mill, the historian, political and mental philosopher,
who will never be forgotten as the father of John Stuart
Mill; Sir James Mackintosh, the catholic-minded man
of culture; Sir Archibald Alison, the celebrated his-
torian — as I mention these names you will have some
idea at least of the college world of Thomas Hoge.
He must have known something of that " Debating
Society," founded by Henry Brougham, where embryo
legislators, judges, and preachers tried their early
powers.
Then, too, think of the men who appealed to Thomas
Hoge's interest as an Irishman. There was Henry
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
Grattan, who, Protestant though he was, is described
by a Roman CathoHc historian as " a man of pure
spirit and noble genius; an accompHshed scholar and
a' poet, whose scholarship and poetry gave way to a
grand, peculiar, and electric oratory, unsurpassed,
probably unequalled, by the greatest speakers of any
age or nation — not only a consummate orator, but a
patriot in the largest and broadest sense."
There was John Philpot Curran, who reached the
pinnacle of his fame in his defence of the accused in
the State trials which took place in connection with the
spirit of rebellion which caused Mr. Hoge to flee from
his native land. There was Edmund Burke, to whom
Lord Brougham accords a station among the most
extraordinary persons that have ever appeared. And
old Dr. Johnson said of him, " Burke, sir, is such a man
that if you met him for the first time in the street,
where you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you
and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five min-
utes, he'd talk to you in such a manner that when
you parted you would say, ' This is an extraordinary
man.' " There was William Pitt, whom Macaulay de-
clares to be " the first English minister who formed
great designs for the benefit of Ireland."
That portion of the world's chronology which is
measured by Thomas Hoge's life on the other side of
V the water is one of the mile-post epochs in the history
of mankind. It is filled with the seed events of hu-
man annals. There are the American Revolution, the
French Revolution, the wars of Napoleon, the for-
mation of the Constitution of the United States of
America, the origination of the Sunday-school, the
99
/
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
prison work of John Howard, the construction of
Sir WilHam Herschel's great telescope, the discovery
of vaccination.
So the year 1798 marks the time when the Scotch-
Irishman, Thomas Hoge, in the twenty-third or
twenty-fourth year of his age, first touched the shores
of America, at the port of Philadelphia, The City of
Brotherly Love was at that time the seat of govern-
ment and the chief city of the republic. Thomas Hoge
doubtless observed what McMaster so graphically de-
scribes, " No other (city) could boast of so many streets,
so many houses, so many people, so much renown."
There had been made the discoveries which carried the
name of Franklin to the remotest spots of the civilized
world. There had been put forth the Declaration of In-
dependence. There had long been held the delibera-
tions of Congress. No other city was so rich, so extrav-
agant, so fashionable. Seven years before, 1784, (Rich-
ard Henry) Lee had described the place (Philadelphia)
to Washington as an attractive scene of amusement
and debauch, Lovel, another writer, had called it a
place of crucifying expenses. But the features that
most impressed travellers from distant lands were the
fineness of the houses, the goodness of the pavement,
the filthiness of the carriage-ways, the regular ar-
rangement of the streets, and the singular custom of
numbering some and giving to others the names of
forest trees. When Thomas Hoge struck Chestnut
Street, long since given up to the demands of com-
merce, and lined with warehouses and shops, he would
at once perceive the fashionable walk of the Phila-
delphians. There, on any fine day when business was
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
over, the bank closed, and the exchange deserted,
crowds of pleasure-seekers gathered to enjoy the air
and display their rich clothes. As the gentleman of
the last century passed him he would notice that he
wore a three-cornered cocked hat, heavily laced; that
his hair was done up in a cue, and its natural shade
concealed by a profusion of powder. His coat was
light-colored, with diminutive cape, marvellously long
back, and silver buttons engraved with the letters
of his name; that his small clothes came scarce to his
knees; his stockings were striped; his shoes pointed
and adorned with huge buckles; his vest had flap
pockets; his cuffs were loaded with lead; that partici-
pation in the Revolutionary War would make him af-
fect a military bearing and speak very frequently con-
cerning campaigns; that when he bowed to the damsels
that passed him, he took half the sidewalk as he flour-
ished his cane and scraped his foot. As Thomas
Hoge saw the lady responding to the salutation as she
gravely returned it and courtesied almost to the earth,
that which greeted his eyes would seem strange to us.
Thomas Hoge's day was the day of gorgeous brocades
and taffetas, luxuriantly displayed over cumbrous
hoops which, flattened before and behind, stood out
for two feet on each side; of tower-built hats, adorned
with tall feathers; of calash and muskmelon bonnets;
of high wooden heels, fancifully cut; of gowns without
fronts; of fine satin petticoats, and of implanted teeth.
The implantation of teeth was introduced by a French
physician who, according to report, reaped a small
fortune from the ladies by the performance of the oper-
ation. In one of his advertisements, which is yet ex-
lOI
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
tant, announcing it to be his business to transplant
teeth, it is declared that he has, within the six months
just passed, successfully transplanted one hundred and
twenty-three, and assures those having front teeth for
sale that he will give two guineas for every sound one
brought him. It is to be hoped that if Thomas Hoge
were invited out to dine he was not embarrassed by a
specimen of table manners in vogue at that time. A
French prince who was travelling in our country, in
one of his letters speaks of what took place when he
accepted an invitation to dine with the lady of Robert y^
Morris. He was repeatedly asked to have his cup
refilled. He consented. When he had swallowed the
twelfth cup of tea, his neighbor whispered in his ear,
and told him when he had enough of the water diet he
should place his spoon across the cup, else the hostess
would go on urging him to drink tea until the crack
of doom.
Mr. Hoge would also find Philadelphia in the midst
of a business panic on account of the threatened war
with France. America was preparing for a conflict
with her whilom ally, and Washington had been ap-
pointed Lieutenant-General. The proposed exactions
of the French Minister Talleyrand, acting in behalf of
the French Directory, had filled all America with the
cry, " Millions for defence and not a cent for tribute."
And he, doubtless, landed in Philadelphia to receive
the greetings of many whom he had known as friends
in his native land. Hence he would be introduced into
the circle of the Presbyterian congregations and would
meet their ministers, and thus would be brought into
contact with some of the best preachers and pastors
I02
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
that ever adorned American Presbyterianism — such
men as Drs. Ashbel Green, James P. Wilson, and
Samuel Stanhope Smith.
But his sojourn in Philadelphia was comparatively
brief. Leaving Philadelphia, he came to Carlisle,
Penn., doubtless travelling over the road which ran
from the seat of American civilization into the wilder-
ness of what was then the far West. As one tells us,
"its course, after leaving the city, lay through the coun-
ties of Chester and Lancaster, then sparsely settled,
now thick with towns and cities, and penetrated with
innumerable railways, and via Shippensburgh went
over the Blue Ridge Mountains to the little town of
Bedford."
As Cumberland County was largely settled by
people from the North of Ireland, he must have been
attracted thither in the hope of renewing the acquain-
tances of his boyhood in Tyrone. Carlisle was remark-
able in those early days as the home of culture and
comfort. Some traveller of that day noted the cir-
cumstance that it contained no less than three hundred
stone houses. Our country in its early days received
many of its most celebrated men in all the professions
from Carlisle's Dickinson College. As a licentiate of
the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland, he would naturally
affiliate with the Presbyters of the town and vicinity.
There was that pioneer of liberal education in America,
Dickinson's distinguished President, Dr. Charles Nis-
bet, and his erudite successor. Dr. Robert Davidson.
There was Francis Herron, the young pastor at Rocky
Spring, who was afterwards to do the first works of a
ministry which has made Presbyterianism what it is
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
in Pittsburgh and the part adjacent thereto. There was
a young Hcentiate, but a year younger than himself,
Matthew Brown, to whom he Knked himself in a life-
long friendship. Neither were Carlisle and its neigh-
borhood beyond the range of the archery of Cupid,
and Mr. Hoge met his blessed fate by his marriage to
Miss Elizabeth City Holmes. The conduct of his
courtship does not seem to have interfered with his
superintendence of an academy in Northumberland,
Penn. So that Mr. Hoge did his part in the great
work accompHshed by the classical school for God and
country during his career as a preceptor.
Afterwards we find Mr. Hoge at Greensburgh,
Penn., where, according to the recollection of his
daughter, Mrs. Esther Holmes Hoge Patterson, he
served the church as a ruling elder. His removal from
Greensburgh to Washington, Penn., was the occasion
of a call to the same office on the part of the church
there.
On April 17, 1876, Mr. Hoge was taken under the
care of the Presbytery of Ohio on his certificate as a
licentiate from the Presbytery of Tyrone, Ireland.
The same Presbytery ordained him to the full work
of the Gospel ministry as an evangelist. His appli-
cation for ordination was the result of the earnest
advice of such men as Drs. Francis Herron and
Matthew Brown. Just about this time he was called
to one of the Presbyterian churches of Pittsburgh.
The opposition of Mrs. Hoge constrained him to
decHne the invitation. As a member of the Presbytery
of Ohio, Mr. Hoge acted as stated supply of the
churches of Upper Ten Mile and East Buffalo. Some-
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
where about this time he was chosen a member of the
Board of Trust of the Synod of Pittsburg-h, for the
prosecution of missions, and was also elected to suc-
ceed the Rev. Francis Herron as stated clerk of the/''
Synod.
The name of Thomas Hoge appears as one of the
original members of the Presbytery of Washington, at
its organization, October 19, 1819. This Presbytery '
made him its Stated Clerk in 1822 for two years. In
1823 he was elected Moderator of the Synod of Pitts- ^
burgh. In 1827, 1829, 1830, 1831, and 1832 he served
the same body as a clerk.
The initial step in the organization of this, the Clays-
ville Presbyterian Church, was taken when, in 1820,
Joseph Henderson and Barnet Bonar invited him
whom we delight to honor to-day, to preach the Gos- /
pel in this village. He organized this church in Sep- /
tember, 1820, and was its stated supply, in connection
with East Buffalo, until June 2y, 182 1, when he was
installed the pastor of the united churches.
Mr. Hoge discharged the duties of the Claysville
pastorate until some time in the year 1826, when, at his
own request, the relation was dissolved by the Pres-
bytery of Washington. After an interval of two weeks
he resumed his labors as stated supply, and continued
his service until about the middle of the year 1828. In
1830 the congregation earnestly requested Mr. Hoge /
to return to his former pastorate. He acceded to its
request and was again installed. During the interval
he had been engaged in evangelistic work, and had
organized a church at ]\Iount Nebo, near Washington,
Penn. During the same interval the Claysville Church
8 105
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
had been supplied by appointment of Presbytery. The
people seemed willing to call a Rev. Abner Leonard.
Mr. Leonard, however, declined the acceptance of a
call.
The second pastorate of Mr. Hoge continued until
\ 1835, when the relation was again dissolved at his own
request, and he was afterward dismissed to the Pres-
bytery of Philadelphia. True to his old love for the
evangelization of the world, he acted as treasurer of the
Board of Missions of the Presbyterian Church in the
United States of America from the year 1842 until his
"^ death in 1846.
Although everything with Mr. Hoge was subor-
dinated to his work as a minister of the Gospel, he
was a thorough man of affairs. Like the men of
Issacher of the olden time, he had an understanding
of the times and was the peer of any man among
the early settlers of this region in public spirit. Such
men as Josiah Truesdell and George Wilson found
in him an earnest, sympathizing second to their
efforts to make Claysville a prosperous town. The
house in Washington, Penn., which generations have
known as the Green Tree Comer, was built by Mr.
\ Hoge, and was his residence as well as a place of
I business for his sons, Abram Holmes Hoge and
Thomas Hamilton Hoge. During their day in West-
ern Pennsylvania they were large buyers of wool,
and took great interest in sheep and the business of
' wool-growing.
So that I say to-day what Mrs. Patterson directed
me to say when we celebrated the organization of the
church, that Mr. Hoge, her father, was always a
106
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
preacher and never a merchant. According to his
means, he aided his sons in order that they might en-
gage in trade. As far as he was concerned, he knew
nothing among men save Jesus Christ and Him cru-
cified.
In the controversies which agitated the Presbyterian
Church in his day, Mr. Hoge was an old-school ortho-
dox, conservative man. The Bible truths as they are
set forth in the Westminster Confession and Cate-
chism were certainties to him, and he preached and
defended them with his characteristic energy and de-
termination. His cotemporaries regarded him as a
man of thorough learning, and I have heard the men-
tion of him as a preacher of power.
How he loved this church building! The edifice
was the fruit of his enthusiasm. After pledging one-
third of its cost, he took a trip to Philadelphia and
obtained the money. I only wish that the beautiful '
pulpit of Mr. Hoge's day had been left to emphasize
the exquisite taste of the memorial tablet.
Seven persons are still living (November 24, 1898)
who remember to have seen ]\Ir. Hoge. They are
John Birch, Anthony A. Mealy, John Finley, Joel
Truesdell, Joseph R. :McLain, j\Iiss I^Iary McLain,
and Mrs. T. C. Noble. They describe him as
of medium height, stout build, and of pleasing ad-
dress.
When he was seventy years of age he had the appear"^
ance of a man of sixty. It was the habit of Mr. Hoge [
to come to Claysville on horseback. Many a Sabbath
he enjoyed the companionship of his daughter Hettie
over the road from Washington to Claysville. To-day
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The Hoge Memorial Tablet
she must be thinking of those rides as, though absent
in body, she is present in spirit at this service.
( One of Mr. Hoge's Claysville homes was the hotel
^5 of Mrs. Calohan, whom the most of us afterwards knew
i as Mrs. Joihn Kelley. A part of the time 'he made his
sojourn with the Truesdell family. The sad story of
the accident which took Mr. Truesdell away in the
prime of life is one of the indelible incidents of the his-
tory of Claysville. It is interesting to know that the
last friend Mr. Truesdell recognized on earth was Mr.
Hoge.
As has been already intimated, Mr. Hoge at the time
, of his death was residing in Philadelphia. His family
I consisted of four sons and two daughters, viz. : Abram
I Holmes, who died in Chicago several years since;
Thomas Hamilton, William, and James, who have
passed away; Esther (Hettie), who became Mrs.
Joseph Patterson, and now lives at 1728 Spruce Street,
; Philadelphia; and Elizabeth, who was the third wife of
' General Pleasonton, of Philadelphia, and died but
recently, consecrating a considerable portion of her
wealth to several of the Boards of the Presbyterian
Church. She also endowed the Thomas Hoge Ward
/ of the Presbyterian Hospital of Philadelphia.
I Abram Holmes Hoge was, for a number of years,
I Collector of Internal Revenue at Chicago. His wife's
maiden name was Jane C. Blackie. Her father, Cap-
tain Blackie, commanded the vessel which carried the
first missionaries to China and India. He was a cousin
of John Blackie, the celebrated Greek professor of the
University of Edinburgh.
Mrs. Abram Holmes Hoge and Mrs. Mary A. Liv-
108
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
ermore were the founders of the Sanitary Commission
which did such efficient service in our Civil War. Mrs.
Hoge was also one of the founders and long the Pres-
ident of the Woman's Foreign Missionary Society of
the Northwest. She was the author of a book entitled
" Heroes of the Rank and File," which Secretary
Stanton called " an imperishable monument to the
memory of the ' Boys in Blue.' " Dr. Delano, of the
Baptist Church in Evanston, 111., fitly summed up her
life as he called her " one of Chicago's bravest pioneers,
a saintly mother, a gracious wife, a noble member in
the church militant, a friend of God's true ministers, a
helper of the poor, an inspirer of missions, a loving
counsellor in grief, a patient pilgrim in the highway
of trial."
But what is a picture without its background? The
background in this case was Abram Holmes Hoge.
And what shall I say for Mrs. Patterson, who rises
up this day to call her father blessed? The good cheer
of the faith which her father taught her frees old age
from the winter of discontent, and makes an interview
with her a benediction.
The apostle Paul, in i Corinthians vii. 31, would
have us, as Francis Jacox puts it, " use the world as
not abusing it for the reason that the fashion of this
world passeth away." The expression is said by Gro-
tius and others to be borrowed from the theatre, and to
refer to the scene-shifting of the stage. Life here be-
low has verily its histrionic aspects; the fashion of it
passeth away much as do the scene-painter's creations,
the stage-carpenter's framework, the spectacular ef-
fects and dissolving views, nay, the very actors them-
109
The Hoge Memorial Tablet
selves. For all the world is in some sense a stage,
and all the men and women merely players.
" They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
" The measure of a happy life," writes Lord Shaftes-
bury, he of the " characteristics," is not the fewer or
more suns we behold, the fewer or more breaths we
draw, or meals we repeat, but from the having once
lived well, acted our part handsomely, and made our
exit cheerfully — or to print it as he wrote it for the
lovers of old books' sake, " And made our exit cheer- «
fully and as became us."
So Thomas Hoge, amid the shifting scenes of his
life — as it shifted from Tyrone to Edinburgh, from
Edinburgh to Tyrone, from Tyrone to Philadelphia,
from Philadelphia to Carlisle, from Carlisle to North-
umberland, from Northumberland back to Carlisle,
from Carlisle to Greensburgh, from Greensburgh to
Washington, from Washington back to Philadelphia,
to God's Acre — lived well, acted his part handsomely,
and made his exit cheerfully because his Hfe kept step
to the heavenly rhythm of the word which has been
cut into this bronze: " For other foundation can no
man lay *than that is laid which is Jesus Christ " ; and if
he could fill that face with what he knows, as he sees
Jesus Christ as He is, methinks he would close this
address with the word:
" How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word !
What more can He say than to you He has said,
To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled ? "
Our Village Home
^J^..Ji^ .^J.
REV. G. W. F. HIRCH, D.D., LI..D.
Our Village Home
A SKETCH OF CLAYSVILLE, WASHINGTON CO., PENN.,
By George W. F. Birch, D.D., LL.D.
I wish that I could strike from Goldsmith's harp
notes such as the imperishable numbers which en-
shrine " Sweet Auburn! loveUest village of the plain."
I covet that acquaintance with the springs and ac-
tions of human life, that profound sympathy with
human conditions, that real kinship with human na-
ture which George Crabbe brought to light when he
described the " Borough " as its church, its sects, its
electors, its lawyers, its physicians, its tradesmen, its
clubs, its social meetings, its players, its inns, its alms-
house, its hospital, its poor, its Peter Grimes, its pris-
ons and its schools; compose what William Howitt
called " the strangest, cleverest, and most absorbing
book " he had ever read.
I long for that power of imagination, that creative
faculty — that love of nature — that insight of human
character which made Scott the poet and Scott the
novelist call forth from the mountains, lakes, cities,
homes, and traditions of his native Scotland, incarna-
tions of heroism, humor, and uniqueness which are
historic.
I would like to have the prerogative whereby Will-
iam Wordsworth revealed that the ordinary walks of
113
Our Village Home
life preach the grand truth that, as an American critic
puts it, " The beautiful is not confined to the rare, the
new, the distant — to scenery and modes of Hfe open
only to the few; but that it is poured forth profusely
to the common earth and sky, gleams from the loneli-
est flower and lights up the humblest sphere; that the
sweetest affections lodge in lowliest hearts; that there
are sacredness, dignity, and loveliness which few eyes
rest on; that even in the absence of all intellectual cul-
ture, the domestic relations can quietly nourish that
disinterestedness which is the element of all greatness
and without which intellectual power is a splendid
deformity."
I feel in my present task the need of that grace,
melody, and variety by which Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow has responded to every emotion which
thrills the heart of humanity.
My subject deserves the smoothness, the elegance,
the thoughtfulness with which the genius of William
Cullen Bryant crystallized his observation of the every-
day life of American homes and communities.
As I recall the dainty pictures of home, childhood,
boyhood, which are the charm of Ik Marvel's " Rev-
eries of a Bachelor," I crave, as I trace some recollec-
tions of Claysville, Washington County, Pennsylvania,
Our Village Home, the right to exclaim, " I, too,
am a painter! "
For in Our Village Home, Goldsmith, methinks,
would have found his village preacher, his village
schoolmaster, and his village inn. Crabbe could have
sung of alley, lane, and street in describing our
" Borough." Scott would have discovered the ma-
114
Our Village Home
terial to mould the Antiquary or Jennie Deans or
Dumbiedikes. Wordsworth would have been ac-
quainted with a Benjamin the Wagoner, evolved the
story of Peter Bell, caught the " Song of the Spinning
Wheel," and experienced many a phase of the " Ex-
cursion." Longfellow would have known a veritable
Village Blacksmith, heard the " Old Clock on the
Stairs," and contemplated " I\Iy Lost Youth." Bryant
could have evoked his " Thanatopsis," described the
" Old Man's Funeral," and walked through the groves
to the music of the " Forest Hymn." Ik Marvel could
have made us look through our tears at the home of
our childhood.
Hence if we cannot make the story of Our Village
Home flash with the light of these stars of the literary
firmament, I may at least venture with the flicker of
my Httle lamp to interest and amuse, if not to instruct
and impress.
Moreover, the aim of this chapter is not without
Scripture warrant. Indeed its appropriate text is
found in the farewell song which Moses " spake in the
ears " of his countrymen: " Remember the days of old,
consider the years of many generations; ask thy
father and he will show thee; thy elders and they will
tell thee." (Deuteronomy xxxii. 7.) The philosophy
of this direction appears in the thought that " Human
progress is entirely dependent on the memory. By
this power the mind retains or recalls knowledge once
acquired, and thus garners the materials of thought,
comparison, and deduction. Memory is at once the re-
corder of the intellect and the storehouse of the affec-
tions. Without this faculty of mind man would be a
"5
Our Village Home
perpetual novice — his past a blank, his future imbecil-
ity — indeed he would not be man."
So I recall the invocation which opens a poem by-
Willis Gaylord Clark :
"Come, Memory, with thy power to paint and sing
The vanished glory of life's little spring !
Back o'er the soul the light of childhood pour,
And bring its blossoms, though they bloom no more.
To fancy's eye unfold each braided wreath,
Once twined on sunny brows, undimmed by death.
Bring back the tale and lay of yore so dear
Which fell in sweetness on the thirsty ear.
When hope was singing like the lark at morn,
And all the flowers of earth were newly born,
Thanks for thy bidden aid — at thy command,
As by the magic of the enchanter's wand,
A thousand scenes returned to life arise
Softer than moonbeams in the eastern skies ;
Upspring a thousand roses fresh with dew
And round my path their radiant tints renew.
Their breath seems floating where the winds prevail.
And birds and brooks give music to the gale.
Mid skies where fancy moves the frolic wing
Life's train of morning stars arise and sing."
Our Village Site
Beautiful for situation was Our Village Home. The
original survey of the locality designated it as " Super-
fine Bottom." Its horizon was narrowed by the high
hills which inclosed the indented valley, along which
the houses lined its single street. Those hills were
magnificent parks of the noblest trees of the forest.
They were crowned with the towering poplar, the
ii6
Our Village Home
cathedral elm, the giant oak, the tall ash, the royal
black walnut, the stately wild cherry, the straight
hickory, the symmetrical maple, the expanding syca-
more. To the north, to the south, to the east, to the
west, wherever we looked, we saw a grove fit for the
temple of a God. How beautiful those hills when
spring dotted them with the white of the dogwood;
when summer enrobed them in its luxuriant green;
when autumn touched them with its tints of scarlet and
gold; when winter gave them the whiteness of its snow
and the sparkle of its ice!
These forests of Our Village Home swarmed
with animal life in the days of the Indian, and within
the lifetime of the writer often rewarded the patience
and skill of the hunter. An occasional wildcat or lone
wolf recalled the days and dangers of the pioneers.
Among my first recollections of the county paper are
the announcements of " The Circular Hunt," which
summoned every man, weapon, and dog from far and
near to the capture of the crafty fox. That " same
old coon," adopted in the " Forties " as the watch-
word of a political party, was the frequent occasion of
the most exciting sport, as before the flare of torch and
the bay of dog he made a brave fight for life. That
strange mixture of craft and dulness known as the
opossum was an enemy of the hen-roost and lover
of the egg-basket, to which no lady of the farm gave
any quarter. The nomenclature of our folklore had
no word more familiar than " possuming," drawn from
the well-known instinct of the animal, when caught, to
feign death which became life Avhen relieved of the
presence of the captor.
117
Our Village Home
I will never forget the squirrel hunts, which enlisted
the interest of every marksman in town and county.
The stillness of the early morn would be broken by the
crack of the rifle; hill and hollow would be traversed
as long as the sun was above the horizon. The hunters
would come in with their tale of game in the evening,
the aggregate running up into the hundreds, and the
day's enjoyment would close with a banquet — in the
old-time parlance a supper — at which the victors in the
hunt were the guests of the defeated.
What boy of Western Pennsylvania has not traced
along the snow the course of the odd, the quaint, and
the ludicrous rabbit?
I can hear even now the bird-chorus, whose war-
blings hailed the opening of the day, filled the woods
with their music, and were the voices of the night
to the inhabitants of Our Village Home. A yearly
epoch was reached when the pretty, sweet-voiced blue-
bird appeared as the harbinger of spring. I recall the
rich, mellow notes of the catbird; the loud, clear, vo-
ciferous note of the blackbird; the twitter of the swal-
lows, the "wee-whit-wee-e-whit" which names the pee-
wit, the musical cry of the robin, the scream of the
hawk, the caw of the crow, the cackle of the wild
geese, and the quack of the wild duck, as they left the
snow and sleet of the north for the bright skies and
warm breezes of the south; the clatter of the martens,
the mimic of the blue jay, the " Bob White " of the
quail, the love-song of the bobolink, and last, but by
no means least, the whoop of the owl, Christopher
North's " Nimrod of the night and cat with wings."
Indeed the birds made our village forest the exposition
ii8
Our Village Home
of the faith-inspiring question of our Lord, " Are not
five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of
them is forgotten before God? " (Luke xii. 7), recalHng
the " Childhood Hymn " of Mrs. Hemans:
"Tribes of the air ! whose lavored race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky ;
In form, in plumage, and in song.
What gifts of nature mark your throng
With bright variety !
" Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild haunts ye love.
Birds of the gentle beak ! how dear
Your wood-note to the wanderer's ear.
In shadowy vale or grove !
" Others no varied song may pour.
May boast no eagle plume to soar.
No tints of light may wear ;
Yet know, our Heavenly Father guides
The least of these, and well provides
For each with tenderest care.
" Shall He not then tky guardian be ?
Will not His aid extend to //tee f
O safely mayest thou rest !
Trust in His love ; and even should pain.
Should sorrow tempt thee to complain,
Know what He wills is best."
With such an environment our village must have
been the home of the hunter. There was Perry, the
shoemaker, whose gun was his boon companion, and
whose career seemed to be a pendulum swinging be-
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tween the bench and the woods. There was Samuel,
the blacksmith, and his dog Bounce, whose bark at the
foot of a tree seldom failed to locate a squirrel. There
was Asbury, the merchant, whose Nimrodic exploits
I do not forget, but which I cannot repeat. I did all
my hunting as a carrier of the game which others shot,
several vigorous kicks on the part of the gun having
convinced me that I would never be a marksman.
The following story stamps my reputation as a
hunter: An adventurous American who was shoot-
ing small game in Germany, said to his host that there
was a spice of danger in shooting in America. " Ah,"
said the host, " you like danger mit your sport! Then
you go out shooting mit me. The last time I shoot
my brudder-in-law in the schtomack."
Among the memories of our village hunting-ground
is the case of an Irishman fresh from the Green Isle,
who, soon after his arrival, thought that he would take
a gunning excursion in America. Noticing a peculiar-
looking bird, he fired, and brought to the ground a
screech-owl. Turning to the boy who was his com-
panion, he shouted, " Jimmie! Jimmie! " and gave him
the charge to run home and tell his father that he had
killed his Satanic Majesty himself.
The stream which skirted the southern boundary
of Our Village Home was a branch of what was known
as the Dutch Fork of Buffalo Creek. The village,
being near its upper springs, knew it as a mere brook,
which, as it went on winding, twisting, leaping, dash-
ing, growing, became Porter's Run, Anderson's Run,
Coon Island Dam, De France's Dam, Cracraft's Dam,
Waugh's Dam, until, in the mouth of the Buffalo, it was
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lost in the Ohio River. The boys knew its swimming-
places as the first hole, the second hole, the third hole,
whose preeminence was emphasized by calling it the
big hole. Its minnows, suckers, chubs, and catfish
filled many a villager with the enthusiasm of Izaak
Walton. It was not unusual to return from a fishing
expedition without a bite, but it was very unusual to
return without a fish story. The customary bait was
the ground-worm, and in the search for it we felt, if we
did not verify, the following observation: "Darwin
estimated that there are in gardens 53.767 worms to the
acre. This tallies with our count when we were dig-
ging the garden and didn't care a nickel about finding
worms; but when we wanted bait for fishing, the
garden didn't pan out a dozen worms to the acre.
They had all emigrated to the garden of some other
fellow who never goes fishing." In the case of our
village stream the piscatorial results were so meagre as
to confirm Dr. Johnson's definition of fishing, which,
according to the old cynic, was a process carried on
by a line with a hook at one end and a fool at the other.
But while the fish did not make our village stream
their haunt, its banks were the home of the lively, play-
ful, weather-gauging muskrat. Another clerk of the
weather made our brook his feeding-place if we arc
to accept the English tradition that the kingfisher al-
ways turns his breast towards the quarter from which
the wind is blowing; the kingfisher so swift of flight
that I can even now see the streak of blue which
marked his course through the air. Besides, to visit
our brook was to see the only real dragon of God's
creation, as we could not help but observe the glitter-
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ing colors of that active and voracious creature, the
dragonfly.
But the forest-clad hills and the meandering stream
were not the only environment of our village. Our
brook not only lined its banks with the bending wil-
lows, crowned them with the lily and dotted them
with the modest violet; not only refreshed the roots
of the giant oak and the shading elm, but it feasted
our eyes with green fields and waving harvests.
Those fields were alive with the hum of insect move-
ment as the ear dra'nk in the tenor of the honeybee,
the treble of the wasp, the baritone of the bumblebee,
the deep, thundering bass of the hornet. Were the
men who bore the deadly brunt of Gettysburg, or who
laid down their lives in the Wilderness, braver than
when, as our village boys, they were the soldiers in em-
bryo who stormed the home of the yellow-jacket, or
returned to town from a battle with the terrible hornet,
waving his nest as their trophy?
As I write I recall the nights which were filled with
the " drummings, bellowings, chatterings, and pip-
ings " of the " Minstrels of the Marshes." And who
is not familiar with William Black's " chatterer," " tell-
tale," " scandal-monger," whom every boy knows as
"katydid"?
Our Village Street
The principal, perhaps it would be nearer accuracy
to state the only street of Our Village Home was, from
the year 1818 to the year 1850, one of the interesting
points in the United States of America. For our vil-
Our Village Home
lage avenue was the Great National Road which, in the
days of my early boyhood, was the main artery of com-
munication between the East and the West. Indeed,
the location of the National Road was the occasion of
the existence of our village. So Our Village Home
became a relay station of the stage-coach. It was a
halting-place of that old timer of Western Pennsyl-
vania whose imperishable Hkeness has been drawn by
Thomas Buchanan Read in his " Wagoner of the
Alleghenies." Its taverns furnished the resting-place
of the traveller for the night.
As life budded from infancy into impressible child-
hood, I would stand by the window or at the palings
of the yard fence, hour after hour, transfixed by the
constantly moving panorama afforded by the National
Road. So vivid was the impression and so imbedded
by constant repetition that it is graven upon my mem-
ory with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever, and
I gaze upon that panorama as if I were back in child-
hood's realm of wonderland.
The National Road in the early " Forties " is to me a
reproduction of the Appian Way, over which that dis-
tinguished prisoner, the Apostle Paul, travelled to
Rome. In the " Life and Epistles of Paul," by Cony-
beare and Howson, this ancient thoroughfare is de-
scribed as " that road which was at once the oldest
and most frequented in Italy, and which was called, in
comparison with all others, the ' Queen of Roads.' "
To travel over it was to be, we are told, " on the most
crowded approach to the metropolis of the world, in the
midst of praetors and proconsuls, embassies, legions,
and turns of horse; to their provinces hasting or on
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return; which Milton, in his description of the city
enriched with the spoils of nations, has called us to
behold in various habits on the Appian road."
So the old pike was kept smooth by a steady stream
of travel eastward and westward. All hours of the day
and night resounded with the blast of the coachman's
horn. A Conestoga wagon was nearly always in sight
with its team of six and eight horses, in many cases at
each step sending forth the melody of sweet-toned
bells. It was unusual to travel very far without meet-
ing the private conveyance and hundreds of horse-
men and footmen, who, in the pursuit of business,
sought health and recreation as they threaded their
way through the valleys and over the hills of the mag-
nificent highway. Drove after drove of horses, cattle,
hogs, and, as I remember in one instance, turkeys
passed on their way to the Eastern markets. Our vil-
lage street's registry of travel enrolls presidents, sena-
tors, congressmen, army officers of every grade, mer-
chants, tourists, Indians — indeed, we may say, every
class and condition of humanity. Our villagers shook
hands with Andrew Jackson, WilHam Henry Harrison,
James K. Polk, Zachary Taylor, Henry Clay (whose
monument was the pike, and whom the village hon-
ored by its name), Lewis Cass, Thomas H. Benton,
Thomas Corwin, and scores of others, whose names
are identified with the progress and greatness of our
country. How we boys were wont to gather around
the heroes of the Mexican War on their way to the
front or returning home! I can yet see the long-
haired May, who made the famous charge at Palo
Alto; that magnificent specimen of man, the noted
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Captain Walker of the Rangers, who came home,
raised a company, and went back to the seat of war to
fall before the aim of a Mexican lancer.
But there was scarcely a mile of the highway that
did not have its local habitation and its name. There
was Sugar Hill, Weirich's Hill, Coulson's Ridge, Cald-
w^ell's Hill, AlcClelland's Hill, Warrell's Hill, Coon
Island Hill, Dug Hill, the Three Ridges' Hill, at the
base of which runs the line which separates Pennsyl-
vania from West Virginia, and whose top, when
reached by climbing up what was known as Hard-
scrabble Hill, found the climber satisfied that there was
something in a name.
Any account of the old pike would be incomplete
without the mention of those bridges which are the
admiration of observers even to this day, as they stand
as if they were constructed but yesterday. The S
Bridge at once recalled the letter of the alphabet to
which it owed its name. Wickery's Bridge was the
locality of a supposed murder and as the fatal termina-
tion of a runaw^ay which threw a coach, with its team,
passengers, driver, and all, into the ravine which it
spanned.
The " Monument," which stood on the road between
Triadelphia and Wheeling, was an object of universal
interest as well as a point of departure. It was enough
to satisfy inquiry concerning a traveller, to learn that
he passed the " Monument " at any given time; or to
locate an occurrence, to remark that it took place on
this or the other side of the " Monument." This
monument was a testimonial on the part of Moses
Shepherd, and Lydia, his wife, to that magnificent
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figure whom America will never forget as the latest
generation extols the name of Henry Clay. Mr, and
Mrs. Shepherd erected the monument as a token of
their appreciation of the great Kentuckian's agency in
the construction of the National Road.
It was my privilege during (if my memory be not at
fault) the year i860 to pass part of a morning in a
visit to Mrs. Shepherd, when, having passed the ninety-
fourth milestone, she was looking down through the
vista of bygone years from a bright and cheery old age.
She was familiar with the foundation builders and con-
stitution makers of our nation. It was, indeed, some-
thing for a person on the threshold of active life to
gather from her treasury of recollections eye and ear
impressions of the men who were leaders when forensic
power was a potent factor in the legislative hall, and
the cunning of the orator a prevailing power in political
campaigns.
Of course a boy would be interested in the names of
the stage-coaches which once thronged the old pike.
Every State of the Union was represented in the Na-
tional Road Stage Company. Its rival, the Good
Intent Line, took a wider range in its coach nomen-
clature. With my pen in hand, I look across fifty
years and find the names which a little boy was wont to
read as the coach rushed by, standing out plainly and
distinctly on the tablet of memory. And I spell out
this moment the coach titles: Granite State, Bay State,
Buckeye State, Keystone State. I became familiar
with the great men of the day as the big letters which
made Rough and Ready, at once suggested General
Taylor; as the stage register enrolled General Cass,
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Colonel Benton, and Henry Clay. I was introduced
to every phase of fancy in the use of the names Fash-
ion, Pathfinder, Ivanhoe, Industry, and Chancellor. I
took lessons in geography, as I pronounced Yucatan,
Tampico, Buena Vista, Ashland, Raritan, and Panama.
Oh, I am a boy again as, moved by the absorbing
ambition to be a stage-driver, it was my habit with the
touch of imagination to change billets of wood into
horses, and turning the wood-pile into a stage-mount,
my ideal box, pick up the ropes and spliced straps
which were my ideal reins, and cracking my real whip,
shout to the near leader, make a dexterous cut at the
off leader, and lean over to strike the right and left
wheel, and throwing out my improvised mail at the
visionary post-offices along the route, thus ride by the
hour, on the wings of fancy, over the road from my
home to the county seat.
And it is the boy in me now which makes me wish
for the pen with which Charles Dickens, in " Martin
Chuzzlewit," describes Tom Pinch's famous ride from
Salisbury into London. There was a "Yo-ho!" in
every hilltop and valley from Wheeling to Washington.
Kind reader, let us go over the old pike as the olden-
time people were wont to do some fine forenoon during
the month of May. The Cincinnati boat is at the
Wheeling wharf. The Ohio stage has come to the
door of the Wheeling tavern. We have chosen our
line of coaches, either the Good Intent or National
Line (commonly called the Old Line). We have se-
cured the privilege of sitting with the driver. He may
be venerable Billy Rome, or modest Bobby Mc-
Elhenny, gentlemanly Dave Gordon, good-natured
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Paris Eaches, steady Joe Henderson, patriarchal
Watty Noble, merry Archie McNeil, daring Jack
Bailiss, neighborly Joe Whisson, lofty Tobe Banner,
imperious Dave Armour, boisterous John Zinn, grace-
ful Jim Burr, fatherly David Bell, genial John Mc-
Elree, dignified John Ruth, garrulous Jim Schaverns,
or great, big John Hoon.
The passengers are seated, the mails are deposited,
and climbing up Wheeling Hill, looking to the left, you
think of McCulloch's fearful leap from the summit to
the Ohio River, which runs as it did when Adam Poe
released himself from the death-hug which he re-
ceived in its waters from Big Foot, the Indian. These
historic traditions remind you that the region through
which you are riding is the scene of the hand-to-hand
struggle by which the white man wrested from the
savage the region of the Upper Ohio.
Down the eastward slope of Wheeling Hill you fly,
and roll on through Fulton and up the north bank of
the Wheeling Creek, and passing Steenrods, Stelles,
and Hornbrooks, so beautiful for situation, until from
the valley of Elm Grove you look up the way by the
Shepherd mansion, through the trees to the stone
church known as the Forks of Wheehng, where full
proof was made of his ministry of the Gospel by that
humble country pastor, that consistent Christian, that
acute theologian, that firm Presbyterian, known
through all the region as Father Hervey.
On, on, up the narrow valley to Triadelphia, and
who that has ever seen it will forget the Cottage Inn,
spread out like an Eastern caravansary, with its colos-
sally proportioned landlord, Frank Lawson?
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" Get up, Bill! " " Hurry on, Tom! " " Keep up,
Nellie!" ''Behave yourself. Bet! " " Gee up! " and with
a crack of whip you whirl on as the cattle slaking their
thirst in the run, as the sheep scampering up the hill-
side, the farmer looking up from his plough, the boy
leaning on his hoe, the housewife rushing to the door
to look at the stage, are left behind; and we stop at
Brotherton's for a change of team. It was not until
I w^as engaged upon this transcript of reminiscence,
that the light of past days flashed upon this spot as a
hive of tender memories. The Brotherton stage-stand
w^as my first dwelling-place away from home. I feel
this moment the pangs of that homesickness. Neither
has the mental vision lost the impression of that quiet
old man, that motherly matron, whose old-fashioned
Pennsylvania ways made their traveller's rest a real
home.
Our fresh horses soon carry us into Pennsylvania
to the foot of Scrabble Hill, and, reaching its summit,
we are in West Alexander, where we call to mind three
citizens at whom it was not possible for an irreverent
man to sneer without telling the truth as he designated
the triumvirate as King George, Lord Colin, and
Christ McCluskey; because King George's store was
the exchange of Donegal Township; Lord Colin, his
brother, would have been a man of mark in any com-
munity; and if a burning love of souls, a consuming
zeal in the advancement of God's Church, an untiring
devotion to the benefit, temporal and spiritual, of every
man, woman, and child in the community ever made
any man worthy to wear the name of Christ, that man
was the Rev. John McCluskey, D.D., so long the
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pastor of the Presbyterian Church at West Alexan-
der,
Dr. McCluskey answered the prayer which our Lord
directs the church to make, as throug'h his superin-
tendence of the West Alexander Academy from eighty
to one hundred laborers were introduced into God's
harvest.
We linger a moment at the summit of Scrabble Hill
to recall the good times of which the old building, once
known as Lawson's Tavern, was the centre. Joseph
Lawson, wagoner and innkeeper, was a unique char-
acter. At one time defiant of both God and man, he
became one of the meekest and lowliest disciples of
Jesus. He went down to the grave mourning because
he never received any tidings of his beloved boy and
namesake, Joe, after he entered upon the bloody cam-
paign of the Wilderness.
We cannot leave West Alexander without placing
on record the town's deserved title as the Gretna Green
of America. Whatever may be the truth concerning
the matches which are made in Heaven, the record
shows that Squire Sutherland and Squire Mayes made
several thousand matches at West Alexander on the
earth, of which some five thousand are said to have
been elopements. Doubtless the parties to these mar-
riages shared in many cases the experience which has
found expression in the story of the colored gentleman
who, during the performance of the ceremony at his
second marriage, when the clergyman asked the bride,
" Do you promise to love, honor, and obey?" inter-
rupted the parson with the request, " Stop right dar,
sah; say that over again, sah, in order dat de female
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may ketch the solemnity ob de meanin'. I'se been
married before."
But we are all aboard again. How the hoofs clatter,
and the limestones as it were shoe the horses with
sparks of fire as we whirl around the ridge, and with a
glance at the attractive hostelry of John Valentine,
with a bow to Billy McCleary, at the quaint polygonal
toll-house; with a thought upon the poet of the Done-
gal Highlands who looked out upon the valley from
the top of Coon Island Hill, we fly like the wind down
the steep incline to Coon Island, which may have ex-
isted during that geologic period known as the coon
age! To pass Coon Island was to remember that a
mile or two northward dwelt old John Hupp, the
Indian fighter and deer hunter, and that a little further
on was the site of the old block-house which protected
the wives and children of the brave pioneers of Done-
gal Township. On from Coon Island we bowl up
the valley which, as I look back upon youth, resurrects
a boy friend whose sesquipedalian utterance made the
hearer feel that the dictionary had been the mother's
milk of his infancy, and which as we near its end
makes me think of that stern old matron whom we
knew as Aunt Margaret.
Mounting the western rampart of " Our Village,"
clearing the summit marked by Porter's Spring, we
bring up at the home of my playmates, the Kurtzes,
or at the home of my playmates, the Dyes and the
Walkers. I have known the wheels to scarcely cease
revolving before the horses were changed. How the
rival lines would race down our village street, and
quiet Billy Rome would use the lines as if he were
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seized with the jerks, the lazy whip of Bobby Mc-
Elhenny would be charged with electricity, and the
stentorian lungs of John Zinn would change his team
into the likeness of four scared rabbits! Then how the
whips would crack and the wheels would spin as the
prancing teams left for the eastward on the gallop!
The last look at Our Village Home was from the
residence of one of whom I often think as I look upon a
sickle as he thrust it into the standing grain bare-
headed and barefooted. The next house brings the
tears, as its father and mother were like brother and
sister to my father and mother. The bench of the
same hill brought us to a signboard on which w^as in-
scribed the announcement, " Entertainment for Man
and Beast," accompanied by the picture of a tumbler
and a square piece of cake, which every boy in the
neighborhood understood to mean Grannie McFar-
land's spruce beer and gingerbread. The next house
was the home of a man who reached old age drinking
more whiskey and staggering less than any drunkard
I ever knew. It is not long until Mrs. Caldwell, from
her famous inn, surveys us through her spectacles.
The next hilltop recalls a pair of black eyes which
brought a crowd of devotees to the shrine of their
owner. In another moment our minds are occupied
with the beautiful home and plethoric purse of Big
Billy Brownlee. And but a mile to the southward is
the Alrich meeting-house, where Gospel simplicity
was demonstrated by the veteran mathematical pro-
fessor of Washington College.
But we have not yet reached the Red Barn. " Gee
up!" shouts our driver, and on we glide through
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Rankintown until we turn the corner at Chestnut and
Main Streets in Washington to stop at the Old Man-
sion, or to be nearer the Catfish at the tavern of the
famous stage agent, Edward Lane.
Hence we indulged in no fancy when we esteemed
our village highway to be a world centre. It kept our
little town in touch with the round globe. It appealed
to all that was elevating in the beautiful and all that
was stirring in the romantic.
To-day the National Road is a mere wagon track,
fringed with green. A ride over it will show only
here and there a traveller. The various neighbor-
hoods through which it runs give it a little stir morning
and evening. The innumerable caravan which once
moved to and fro over it has, for the most part, joined
" the innumerable caravan which moves to the silent
halls of death."
The following lines on " The Old Country Road,"
written by James Newton Matthews for the Ladies'
Home Journal, so aptly describe " The Old National
Road " that I accommodate them to my purpose.
" Where did it come from, and where did it go ?
That was the question that puzzled us so
As we waded the dust of the highway that flowed
By the town like a river — the old National Road.
" We stood with our hair sticking up thro' the crown
Of our hats, as the people went up and went down,
And we wished in our hearts, as our eyes fairly glowed.
We could find where it came from— the old National Road.
"We remember the peddler who came with his pack
Adown the old highway, and never went back ;
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And we wondered what things he had seen as he strode
From some fabulous place up the old National Road.
"We remember the stage-driver's look of delight,
And the crack of his whip as he whirled into sight,
And we thought we could read in each glance he bestowed
A tale of strange life up the old National Road.
" The movers came by like a ship in full sail.
With a rudder behind, in the shape of a pail —
With a rollicking crew, and a cow that was towed
With a rope on her horns, down the old National Road.
" Oh, the top of the hill was the rim of the world,
And the dust of the summer that over it curled
Was the curtain that hid from our sight the abode
Of the fairies that lived up the old National Road.
" The old National Road ! I can see it still flow
Down the hill of my dreams, as it did long ago,
And I wish even now I could lay off my load,
And rest by the side of that old National Road."
O glorious old pike ! In thy day the route of trans-
portation, the path of the emigrant, the dehght of the
traveller, well hast thou finished the work which the
country gave thee to do. For thou art the inspiration
of that mighty instinct that doth unite earth's neigh-
borhoods with friendly bands.
Our Village Hearthstone
Our Village Home might not quicken the fancy of
the poet nor excite the attention of the historian. Its
dwellings might curl the lip of the architect with a
sneer. Its limited extent might prove nothing else
134
Our Village Home
than a prison to the man of the world. But the old
hearthstone makes it poetry and history and beauty
all the world to me, simply because there is no place
like HOME. The perennial freshness with which mem-
ory clothes the family nest explains the pathos which
moved our whole nation when the news flashed over
the wires that the remains of John Howard Payne had
been brought to the home into which he crystallized
every home by those strains to whose music the heart
of humanity responds in the world-wide chorus:
" Home, home, sweet, sweet home."
It took five dwelling-places to make my early home.
I analyze the composite picture as I stand once more
on the long porch, whose outlook was the whole length
of the village street; as I walk up the locust-canopied
line; as I drink from the old spring which has never
within the memory of " the oldest inhabitant " failed
to pour forth its cooling stream; as I walk through the
front yard, with its evergreens, its quaking aspen, its
silver maple, its beds of pinks, verbenas, geraniums, its
roses, red and white; its vines, wrapping trellis and wall
in their embrace.
" When thoughts recall the past " I find Old Dog
Tray in the field of vision as I whistle for Bony and
Bull and Watch and Bruiser. I would I were a boy
again as I ride and drive old Suke, Bet the mother and
Bet the coh; as thus Alexander was on Bucephalus;
Tarn O'Shanter,
" Mounted on his gray mare Meg,
Skelpit on through dub and mire.
Despising wind and rain and fire."
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But Don Quixote was never on Rosinantes. A daily-
walk to and from the pasture field made me know
when the cows came home.
In the light which crowned the home hearthstone I
contemplated the movements of the world as chron-
icled by newspapers of the time. Tom Grayson's
lively pen and George Hart's thoughtful summary in
the Washington Examiner; John Bausman's graceful
style in the Washington Reporter; Seth T. Kurd's witti-
cisms in the Washington Commonwealth; the weekly
compendium of events in Alexander's Express Messen-
ger; the fund of tale and miscellany in the Saturday
Evening Post; the sensible editorials and interesting
resume of the Dollar Newspaper (the weekly edition of
the Philadelphia Ledger) — all contributed their part to
make the boy a man of affairs in embryo.
The home Hbrary, although not colossal, has been
no unimportant element of my intellectual life.
Haven's illustrated " Book of Trades " gave me
an insight of the various things that man's hand
finds to do. Chauncey Goodrich's " History of the
United States " was so frequently read that its vivid
narrations of the " Battle of Saratoga," the " Trea-
son of Benedict Arnold," the " Capture of John
Andre," the " Desertion of Sergeant Champe," the
" Death of Washington," and the '' Funeral of Will-
iam Henry Harrison " are indelibly imprinted on my
memory.
A small collection of books (not more than twenty
volumes), known as " Parley's Cabinet Library,"
riveted the enthusiastic interest of youth. I recall the
sketches of Josephine, Mrs. Barbauld, Lady Hester
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Stanhope, Hannah More, Martha Washington, and
Abigail Adams, in the volume entitled " Famous
Women " ; of Solon, Socrates, Plato, Alcibiades, De-
mosthenes, Cicero, Caesar, and Seneca, in " Famous
Men of Ancient Times " ; of Cromwell, Charles the
First, William Penn, in " Famous Men in Modem
Times " ; of Zerah Colburn, Admiral Crichton, Cas-
par Hauser, Daniel Lambert, and John Elwes, in
" Curiosities of Human Nature," along with as good
a description as I ever saw of England and Eng-
lishmen, in " Manners and Customs of European Na-
tions."
I still feel the impression of the truth in its im-
perishableness, its heroism and its triumph, which
came to me when I grasped D'Aubigne's " History of
the Reformation." A factor of my life has been the
useful information, secular and religious, which I ab-
sorbed from a Sunday-school library issued by the
London Religious Tract Society.
I also foraged on the literary wares of my neighbors,
and was very much attracted by the " Legends " of
George Lippard in the work entitled " Washington
and his Generals." I turned the pages of Captain
Marryat's " Peter Simple " with the keen interest of
a boy who was learning his first lesson in what Wash-
ington Irving called " the chivalry of the ocean." I
was deeply moved by Jane Porter's touching story of
" Thaddeus of Warsaw " and her tales of " The Scot-
tish Chiefs." I took a short excursion into that the-
saurus of the past known by our fathers as " Rollin's
Ancient History." The summer days will never be
forgotten in which I read Shakespeare and Byron. I
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remember well how the literary circle in Our Village
Home was stirred by the appearance of Macaulay's
" History of England," Harper's Monthly Magazine,
and " Uncle Tom's Cabin."
But the dear ones around the village hearthstone!
Where are they now? No longer on Sunday evening
do we read aloud from the Bible, each taking his or
her turn, from the father to the youngest child; recite
the answers of the Catechism, worship God in song,
and bow to Him in prayer. No longer do we make
the walls ring with music, sacred and secular, vocal
and instrumental, as with the aid of the neighboring
boys and girls we drummed the piano, scraped the
fiddle, buzzed with the jewsharp, thundered with the
bass-viol, and waked the guitar. No longer do we
wait for the college vacation or for the yearly home-
coming of those who had gone out from the old nest,
so that the old circle may be itself again. The father,
full of years and rich in the love and respect of the com-
munity, still sits at the fireside. Death, however, has
made us understand the philosophy of Wordsworth's
" We are Seven." No more as I turn the corner from
the depot do I see mother at the gate waiting to wel-
come me home. Dear, lovely Frank, my companion
brother, of prodigious memory, of brilliant imagina-
tion, quick intellectual perception, acute moral sense,
had scarcely entered into the activities of earthly life
ere he mounted to the higher life, saying: " I shall soon
see greater things than you." Dear, modest, quiet
Willie wanted us to sing because death was open-
ing his ear to the swelling harmony of the New Jeru-
salem.
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God be thanked for my village hearthstone!
The vacant chambers where the loved ones slept are
sanctuaries. The empty chairs where the lovctl ones
sat are altars. As I saw the cradle in which I was
rocked, my heart was touched by the following lines:
MY CRADLE
A dark little closet stands under the stair,
With some scraps of old furniture stocked,
And save these few things it is dusty and bare —
A most unfit place for an object so rare ;
Yet something I prize very highly is there:]
'Tis the cradle in which I was rocked.
To me, oft as I've gazed on the treasure before,
Sweet thoughts of my childhood have flocked.
Of the playmates and friends of those bright days of yore.
Of the father whose face I shall never see more.
And the mother who bent with fondness o'er
The dear cradle in which I was rocked.
I've had many a couch since in it I have lain ;
The cold world has scorned me, and mocked ;
My bravest endeavors have proved all in vain ;
The joys have all flown that I hoped would remain.
And it seems naught is left me but sadness and pain
And the cradle in which I was rocked.
The path of my life is so rugged and steep.
And with so many hardships is blocked,
That my feet grow so wearyl scarcely can creep ;
But there's no room to rest, and there's no time to weep
Though I fain would return and again fall asleep
In the cradle in which I was rocked.
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But as oft as I open that old closet door
The mystery of love is unlocked :
I seem to become mother's baby once more ;
My heart swells with love and with hope as of yore,
And I pray with much faith as I kneel on the floor
Near the cradle in which I was rocked.
Roy.
Morrow, O.
Our Village Population
Our Village Home numbered about three hundred
souls. Among these there were the peers of the three
hundred who followed Gideon to victory as well as of
the three hundred who, with heroic Leonidas, taught
the proud Xerxes that there were Greeks who would
cheerfully die for their country. Lord Byron sings
the following prayer:
" Earth ! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead ;
Of the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Thermopylae."
The history of Our Village Home has more than
one Thermopylae. The one who met death so bravely,
the one whom I saw plunging into the death-damp
of an old well to save human life, the one who would
not be driven from his determination to secure an
education — each made a new Thermopylae.
The range of nativity in our village population was
quite extensive. It included, besides those to the
manor born, the members of a colony from the North
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of Ireland, the h-dropping Englishman, the Mary-
lander, and the Pennsylvania Dutchman. Our village
was unique in the absence of the colored people. I
remember but one resident, and an occasional visitor,
whom all Washington County knew as " Dungy and
his sugar-sticks," It was the current report concern-
ing the taffy pedler that he prepared for pulling his
molasses candy by spitting on his hands.
Our village population was a very distinct revelation
of the kaleidoscope of human nature. Every grade
of talent, every feature of eccentricity, every variety
of taste, seemed to have its subject in our little town.
There was Uncle Bobby, whether at the blacksmith's
forge on the weekdays or in the elder's pew on the
Sabbath, so wise, witty, religious, and humble. There
was Uncle Watty, who, a retired stage-driver, was a
venerable gentleman. There was Squire Miller, a
man of wide reading and great mental acuteness,
whose conversation was an education. And what
genuine old ladies were the admiration of Our Village
Home! They were the doctors, nurses, counsellors,
and helpers of the whole community. The active citi-
zens were, as a rule, intelligent, industrious, and
abreast of the times. There was a general impression
of the value of money, illustrating an American trait
which was brought to the attention of Professor Park,
of Andover, during a tour of Germany. Dr. Park
was standing by a magnificent building. A German
professor approached him and said, " I perceive, sir,
that you are an Englishman." Professor Park smiled
and made no reply. A moment later the professor in-
quired, " Do you know the cost of this building? "
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The German at once exclaimed, " I perceive, sir, that
you are an American. I do verily believe that when
an American comes to stand before the great white
throne, his first words will be, ' How much did it
cost?'"
The good wives of the town, in more cases than
one, had their husbands under good control. I think of
several who bring to mind the related experience of the
stranger who called at forty-eight different houses in
Cleveland, and asked, " Is the boss home? " There was
no man home in any one instance, and yet forty-seven
of the women promptly replied: " Yes, sir! What do
you want? "
Like all other communities of imperfect humanity,
our native place gave a home to the village gossip.
Neither was the wag of tongue confined to the gentler
sex. The thirst to gather and retail statements, con-
cerning persons rather than things, developed many a
masculine talebearer. I recall special instances of the
clatter, " I heard," " You don't say," " I don't believe
it," " There must be something in it," " Said I,"
" Said he," " Said she." So that we were familiar with
a phenomenon noted by one of our leading periodicals,
as follows : " We have many times been an unwilling
listener to the ' said she ' and ' said I ' narrations in
public conveyances, and elsewhere; but never knew an
instance where the ' said I's ' didn't say all the smart
things, and the ' said she's ' all the stupid, vicious ones,
or where the 'said I's ' didn't come off victorious in the
end."
A near relative of the gossip was the exaggerator.
This character seemed to thrive on visits to the Great
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West. The prairies in their extensiveness, and his
native valleys in their narrowness, gave the truth a
distortion which was simply amusing. We were ac-
customed to hear accounts of the richness of the land
which were fully equal to the railroad's agent's praise
of the Arkansas Valley. His narrative was so extrava-
gant that he was asked if there was anything that
wouldn't grow there. " Yes," he answered quickly,
"pumpkins won't." "Why not?" was the question.
The reply was: " The soil is so rich and the vines grow
so fast that they wear out the pumpkins, dragging
them over the ground."
The stage-driver and the wagoner fairly revelled in
the big story. The big story was the ideal in which
they clothed their real experience of the incidents, both
humorous and tragical, which marked the prosecution
of their calling. Their contact with every phase of
human nature made them the news-gatherers and the
news-distributors of the communities along the Na-
tional Road. They were so often in perils of storm
and darkness and snow and ice and mud as to com-
pel the most wonderful feats of expertness in the man-
agement of their teams. It must be confessed that the
narratives which these feats evolved were mainly im-
aginary. Yet the historical background of their big
stories is just as true as that from which came forth
the wondrous literary creations of Sir Walter Scott.
Hence there is a rough though true photograph of the
real in a tradition of Our Village Home that a company
of wagoners were talking once of their exploits in con-
nection with the spring mud through which they were
often compelled to wade. At last old Billy M ,
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whom I can see as if it were but yesterday, contributed
his tale. " That's nothing," said he. He declared
that once when he was on the road with a six-horse
team he drove at a place where the mud was so deep
that all he had to guide him were the ears of the horse
in the lead. The same man gave a true photograph
of what we would have felt under similar circum-
stances when, referring to a time when he was load-
ing his wagon in Baltimore, he afifiirmed that in going
from the store to the wagon with a bag of lead on his
shoulders, he sank to his knees in the pavement.
A cousin german of the exaggerator was the pro-
fessional politician. The newspaper of his party was
so much the political Bible of this individual, that
where it praised he commended, and where it abused
he denounced. The village store and the village bar-
room were, by turns, the forum of this tribute of the
people. His vocabulary was so familiar to the ear of
childhood that, before I was twelve years of age, I
knew whether I fully understood or not of the " Tariffs
of '42 and '46," the " Buckshot War," the " United
States Bank," "Whig and Democrat," "Tory and
Locofoco," " Neutral and Abolitionist," " Tippecanoe
and Tyler too," " Salt River," besides being acquainted
with every phase of county politics.
The word " Abolitionist " is the wand which wakes
from memory two men who were members of that
party when it was but a handful of corn upon the top
of the mountains. One was a real prophet of fire and,
though without a liberal education, a natural genius;
an impassioned orator; breath, blood, bone, and muscle
an agitator. Neither the bitter taunt nor angry threat
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nor contemptuous sneer could drive our village
Wendell Phillips from the crusade in behalf of the
slave.
However, the investigations of the village senate,
in its several places of assembly, were not confined to
the political horizon. I have known the company in
the village store to resolve itself into a committee of
the whole on mathematical, especially arithmetical,
problems. The arbiter of the science of quantity in
the community was the proprietor of the brick store,
whose delight in the solution of a problem was in pro-
portion to its intricacy of statement.
I cannot forbear the introduction of one of the arith-
metical jokes of the village traditions. Two persons
of the vicinity, known as Mr. B and Patrick C,
had met to make a final settlement for work done for
the former by the latter. The former presented his
statement of the account, and asked the latter if he
were satisfied. According to the story, Patrick took
the calculation and commenced: " Nort from nort and
nort remains." Then, with an expletive as full of
vigor as it was destitute of reverence for the third
commandment, he asserts, " Mr. B. , you owe me
fifty cents."
Our village senate would often leave the store and
the barroom for the schoolhouse and resolve itself
into a debating society. The village disputants used
to wrestle with such questions as involved the com-
parative merits of a tarifif and a direct tax. I reach
over the lapse of years and turn the leaves of the old
record book, and " Is there more pleasure in pursuit
than in possession?" My ears recall the eloquence
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that was poured forth concerning Napoleon Bonaparte
and the Duke of Wellington.
The literary world seems to be determined that the
close of the nineteenth century shall not be blind to
that " little Corsican, " who was the prominent figure
in the political world at its opening. As my thoughts
go back to the days of our village debating club, I am
convinced that it was about as successful in its homely
analysis of the character of Napoleon as the most
acute and judicial of our historians. Sir Archibald
Alison asserts that there is no man who can say that
he has a clear conception of what Napoleon's character
actually was — brave, without being chivalrous; some-
times humane, seldom generous; insatiable in am-
bition, inexhaustible in resources; without a thirst
for blood, but totally indifferent when his interests
were concerned; without any fixed ideas in religion,
but a strong perception of its necessity as a part of the
mechanism of government; a great general with a
small army, a mighty conqueror with a large one;
gifted with extraordinary powers of perception and the
clearest insight into every subject connected with man-
kind, without extensive information derived from
study, but the rarest aptitude for making himself mas-
ter of every subject from actual observation; ardently
devoted to glory, and yet incapable of the self-sacrifice
which constitutes its highest honors; he exhibited a
mixture of great and selfish qualities such as, perhaps,
never were before combined in any single individual.
His greatest defect was the constant and systematic
disregard of truth which pervaded all his thoughts.
The same writer adopts the sentiment of another,
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who styled Wellington " a Caesar, without his ambi-
tion; a Pompey, without his pride; a Marlborough,
without his avarice; a Frederick, without his infidelity."
Of course, as a part of that sovereignty which our
Constitution has put into the hands of the people, our
village debating society would canvass questions in
which it would take issue for and against such men
as Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, and Daniel Webster,
I simply advert to these names to refresh our minds
with respect to these great men.
Henry Clay
It is generally conceded that neither ancient nor
modern times has presented a so nearly complete
specimen of natural eloquence, or a so great power of
adaptation to the assemblies whom his wondrous
oratory made the subjects of his will. In the personal
memories of E. D. Mansfield there is the record of
an incident in connection with the " disgust " which
Mr. Clay, by some vote in Congress, had created
among his mountaineer constituents, known as the
" Hunters of Kentucky." Mr. Clay called a meeting,
and, in the course of his speech, fixing his eye on one
of his old supporters, said: " Suppose, my friend, you
had an old rifle which you had borne through the
hills many a day, and it had never failed you ; but now
you put it to your shoulder and it snapped, but hung
fire, would you break the stock and throw it away, or
would you try it again? "
" I would try it again. We'll try you again, Harry
Clay! " shouted the hunters.
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Our Village Home had an especial interest in Henry
Clay. Its founders saw in the Great Commoner and
staunch friend of the National Road the man whom
they delighted to honor, and gave the new settlement
his name. In his journeys to and fro from Washing-
ton, it was his wont to stop and cordially greet the
inhabitants of our little town. Well do I remember
the day when I formed one of a group which gathered
at the stage station to await the arrival of Henry Clay.
The impression of that venerable face, the tones of that
voice which had been the occasion of such marvels
of the orator's cunning, that fur cap and blue coat, will
never be dislodged from my memory.
John C. Calhoun
We have no reason to believe that he would have
shrunk from the consequences of the seed that he
planted as the Apostle of Secession. Let it suffice
here to quote Daniel Webster's description of his elo-
quence: " It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, pre-
cise; sometimes impassioned, still always severe. Re-
jecting ornament, not often seeking far for illustration,
his power consisted in the plainness of his propositions,
in the closeness of his logic, and in the earnestness and
energy of his manner."
Daniel Webster
Thomas Carlyle met Daniel Webster during his visit
to England. In a letter to Ralph Waldo Emerson he
says: " Not many days ago I saw at breakfast the
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notablest of all your notabilities, Daniel Webster. He
is a magnificent specimen. You might say to all the
world, 'This is your Yankee Englishman; such limbs
we make in Yankee land! ' As a Logic-fencer, Advo-
cate, or Parliamentary Hercules, one would incline
to back him at first sight against all the extant world.
The tanned complexion; that amorphous, crag-like
face; the dull, black eyes under their precipice of
brows, like dull anthracite furnaces needing only to be
blown; the mastiff mouth accurately closed — I have
not traced so much of silent Berserker rage that I re-
member of in any other man."
But I must not forget that our village population
was but a section of
Our Village Neighborhood
Alexander, Brownlee, Carson, Craig, Dickey, Egan,
Henderson, Hutchinson, McMillen, Marshall, Me-
cracken, Meloy, Moore, Robinson, are surnames
which show that our part of Washington County was
the Canaan of the North of Ireland, the Beersheba
where the Scotch-Irishman pitched his home, his
school, and his church. Some of these surnames are
remarkable for their connection with the same Chris-
tian name. Thus in one case the community dis-
tinguished the members of a family connection as
" Big Billy," " Little Billy," " Miller Billy," " Patton
Billy," Hutchinson Billy," " Laughing Billy," " Blue
Billy," and " Slim Jim," and " Blue Jim." Another
family had a member whom the whole country jocosely
stamped as " Imaginative Jim." To the northward
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from Our Village Home there was a colony of Penn-
sylvania Dutch, who seemed to take to the Christian
name of Christopher.
Our village neighborhood was given up to the work
of agriculture. The farmer of our community was
one
" Who with peculiar grace his station filled,
By deeds of hospitality endeared.
Served from affection, for his worth revered.
A happy offspring blessed his plenteous board ;
His fields were fruitful and his barns well stored.
And (flocks) he fed : a sturdy team !
And lowing kine that graz'd beside the stream.
Unceasing industry he kept in view —
The fields his study, nature was his book.
And as revolving seasons changed the scene
From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene.
Through every change, still varied his employ.
Yet each new duty brought its share of joy."
One peculiarity of our farmers was the line they
drew between the value of an article while it was for
sale and after it was sold, thus confirming the word of
the writer of the Book of Proverbs: " It is naught,
it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he is gone his
way, then he boasteth;" and bringing to mind the
somewhat ludicrous but significant story mentioned by
Augustine, in Which a theatrical mountebank an-
nounces to his audience that at his next entertainment
he will show every man what is in his heart. When he
stood before the immense concourse, he redeemed his
pledge by a single sentence: " Vili vultis emere et caro
vendere." — " You wish to buy cheap and sell dear."
Althoug*h they were so neighborly, so hospitable, and
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so accommodating that they would share with you any
product of the farm, yet it was like pulling a tooth to
draw from them the least denomination of the current
coin of the realm. I recall a man who, when he went
to pay for a farm, would make one think of a person
going to mill. He would ride into our village, sitting
on a bag thrown across the saddle, the stones at one
end of it being balanced by a half-bushel of half-dollars
at the other. The panorama of memory presents more
than one who were in sympathy with the old farmer,
who, as the story goes, came into his town looking for
an editor's table on which to build a hen's nest. He
explained that he had learned from the papers that the
biggest eggs were always laid on the editor's table, and
he wished to ascertain whether the papers lied or not.
The tables of our village neighborhood were marvels
of culinary skill. The boys who sauntered from town
could find the way to this one's honey and to that one's
jam. Although it was not customary to eat by
courses, I believe that few of our vicinage would
have been as unsophisticated as the new member of
Congress who sent home the following description
of his experience at a dinner in the Capital of the Na-
tion. " There was nothing on the table when I got
there but some forks and spoons and bricky-brac.
Presently they brought in some soup. As I didn't see
nothin' else, I thought I'd eat all the soup I could,
though soup is a mighty poor dinner to invite a fellow
to. So I was helped four times, and then come on
the finest dinner I ever see, and there I sot," groaned
he, " chock full of soup."
A marked feature of our village neighborhood was
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the intermarriage of kin. In no small number of in-
stances the marriage knot was the tie of consanguinity,
making the genealogical record a story of mixed
phenomena.
Neither the opposition of parents nor the unfavor-
able comment of the neighbors prevented the young
people of our community from giving the marriage
pledge in early life. My recollection of early mar-
riages convinces me that the dire prophecies concern-
ing them have not, by a great deal, been fulfilled. It
was rather " John Anderson, my jo John," from the
beginning to the end. There was nothing of the feel-
ing that was said to have inspired a Detroit girl who
married at fifteen so as to have her golden wedding
when it would do her some good.
Let me not be understood as conveying the idea that
every household of our region was free from family
jars. There were commotions which suggested the
story of a North Carolina justice of the peace, who
married a couple as he sat enthroned in state on the
back of a mule, and the animal, for once realizing that
bigger trouble was going on than he could produce,
kept his heels still.
It is no exaggeration to state that the Book of our
village neighborhood was the Bible. The Sacred
Oracles furnished the children with their stories. The
youth stored away the Scripture system of truth as
they said " the questions " of the Shorter Catechism
on Saturday in the secular school. " Rouse's Version "
of David's Psalms was the standard hymnology of
Southwestern Pennsylvania during the earlier decades
of the present century. The public service of the Sab-
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bath over, the afternoon of God's holy day found each
member of the family with the Word of God in hand.
Consequently, when such a community congregated in
the church, the preacher was in touch with the electrify-
ing power of an intelligent audience. You would have
searched in vain for the editor, whom the story locates
at St. Louis, who, having by accident received in his
morning mail some proof-sheets intended for the em-
ployees of a religious publishing house, after glancing
over them, rushed to the city editor, yelling, " Why
in the world didn't you get a report of that big flood?
Even that slow, old religious paper across the way is
ahead of you. Send out your force for full particulars
— only one family saved. Interview the old man. His
name is Noah."
The truth of history, however, demands the mention
of that sui generis, the horse jockey. This individual
kept the summer afternoons from being monotonous.
He was as regular as a clock at every public gathering.
A satisfactory explanation of his contracts was always
on the end of his tongue, something like that of the
following colloquy. " You told me, sir, that the horse
was entirely without fault, and yet he is blind," said
an irritated loser to the successful dealer, and was
answered with the air of injured innocence: " I do not
regard blindness as a fault, sir. It is a misfortune."
More than one of our horse jockeys gave heed to the
advice of a gentleman of color. " My advice to the
Hoosier brudder am not to lie or deceive in tradin*
mules, but to answer as few queshuns as he kin, and
seem sort of keerless whether his ofifer am 'cepted or
not."
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It must be confessed that our village neighborhood
was rather litigious. My father was a justice of the
peace, and the Saturday was lonesome which was not
set down for a lawsuit. Many a purse was emptied by
disputes about trifles. The two Abolitionists already
mentioned, whom I shall call the Squire and Malachi,
were the parties to one of the traditional lawsuits of
the locality. The Squire's son Dan had a flock of
ducks which, it was claimed, had been devoured by
Malachi's old sow. Malachi brought suit for dam-
ages. The case lasted for years, and ran the gauntlet
of several courts and a board of arbitration. The
most prominent lawyers of the Washington County
Bar exhausted their knowledge of law and powers of
eloquence in the issues involved, piling up the costs
into the hundreds of dollars, and throwing the matter
into such a condition of entanglement that the whole
neighborhood was alive with the question: " Did the
pig devour the ducks, or did the ducks eat the pig? "
But I cannot erase from my memory the woe, the
sorrow, the contentions, the babbling, the wounds
without cause, the redness of eyes with which the
demon of intemperance stamped his victims in our
village neighborhood. In my boyhood days the bar-
room of the village tavern was a village centre. The
sot, the tippler, the dram drinker, the bitters'-taker,
the get-up-early-in-the-morning thirst, gave it a con-
tinual run of business. It did its work so thoroughly
in the ruin of individuals, in the misery of families, in
the waste of capabilities and opportunities, that I want
no better temperance lecture than to walk through the
old village graveyard, which the village bar-room has
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sown so thickly with the drunkard's grave. And if in
our village neighborhood it is the general rule in this
year of grace for families to have, as old Ben Franklin
puts it, " wood on the fire, meal in the barrel, flour in
the tub, money in the purse, credit in the country, con-
tentment in the house, clothes on the back, and vigor
in the body," I believe that the reason is to be found in
the fact that for the last thirty years there has not been
a licensed bar or saloon in Our Village Home. I be-
lieve, further, that our village neighborhood is a proof
of the proposition that the best way to promote the
growth of temperance is to foster and develop and
enforce the temperance that there is in the laws that
we have. Still further, I believe that our village neigh-
borhood is a proof of the proposition that a community
can be prepared for, and trained to, the practice and
support of prohibition.
As a matter of course, in such a survey as the fore-
going, I have dwelt upon the impressible features of
our village and its neighborhood. I have said nothing
of that majority whose lives were so quiet and unevent-
ful that their earthly history finds its model in the fifth
chapter of the Book of Genesis, as in their case life
is summed up in their birth, their families, and their
death. But did they live in vain? Nay, verily. The
average acquaintance with the Bible on the part of the
community, the average parental training, warrant the
following interpretation of their quiet lives:
"In a valley, centuries ago,
Grew a little fern leaf, green and slender,
Veinings delicate and fibres tender,
Waving when the winds crept down so low.
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Rushes tall, and moss and grass grew round it ;
Playful sunbeams darted in and found it ;
Drops of dew stole down by night and crowned it ;
But no foot of man e'er came that way —
Earth was young and keeping holiday.
" Useless ? Lost ? There came a thoughtful man
Searching nature's secrets far and deep !
From a fissure in a rocky steep
He withdrew a stone o'er which there ran
Fairy pencillings, a quaint design,
Leafage veining, fibres clear and fine,
And the fern's life lay in every line.
So I think God hides some souls away,
Sweetly to surprise us the last day."
And I expect to find many such surprises when, in
the light of the resurrection morn, I meet the popula-
tion of Our Village Home and its neighborhood.
Our Village Holiday
The principal holidays of Our Village Home were
the battalion muster (commonly designated by the
little children as the pertallion muster) and the Fourth
of July. The people were too Scotch-Irish to attach
any significance to Christmas. A New Year's call was
a thing unheard of. Still, both Christmas and the
New Year were recognized by big dinners and often
by the traditional country ball.
The battalion muster was signaHzed by the annual
visit of the Brigade Inspector. The battalion stands
out in line before my vision on the hill to the south
of Our Village Home. Dutch Fork had sent forth its
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train bands. The Wheeling Hills had contributed
their legions. There were the West Finley Rifles,
with their green-coated fifer and drummer, and I will
never forget how they were wont to scream and beat
" The Devil's Dream." There were " The Blues," of
Our Village Home, with its military band of boys,
marching to the strains of such tunes as " Rory
O'More," "The Campbells are Coming," "Yankee
Doodle," " St. Patrick's Day," and " The Girl I Left
Behind Me."
But that dress parade — that regimental line. So
many uniformed and so many weaponed. Three
streaks of regulation uniform at the right: " The Clays-
ville Blues," "The West Finley Rifles," and "The
Buffalo Artillery." Then followed a variegated mix-
ture, made up of Sunday-go-to-meeting suits, war-
muses, hunting shirts, and waistcoats whose color was
relieved by the whiteness of the shirt sleeves. The
variety of weapon was worthy the curiosity room of
an arsenal. There were the army musket, the State
rifle, the six-pounder, the bayonet, the artillery cutlass,
the broadsword, the walking cane, the hickory shilla-
lah, the alder stalk, and — memory fails me to tell of the
other articles through which the yeomanry showed
their ability to strike for their altars and their fires.
The field officers, in their array of plume and blue and
tinsel, were simply stunning.
The battalion muster was the set time for the pugi-
listic encounters with which our ancestors usually ad-
justed their differences. And we boys, following the
example of our elders, when we opposed each other on
the playground, found it oftentimes more convenient
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to say, " Just wait until the pertallion muster and I'll
lick you." The " big muster " was also the day on
which the man who only got drunk occasionally in-
dulged himself. So that when evening came, there
were several blackened eyes and staggering forms.
I recall with a glad heart the old-time celebrations
of the Fourth of July — the procession to the church,
with the " Village Blues " as the escort, Cal King and
Josiah Carroll, fifers; James Noble and Aaron Patter-
son, tenor; and Alexander Wallace and Marcus Dean,
bass drummers. The exercises at the church! What
an array of officers! President, vice-presidents, and
secretaries. Sometimes there were present some old
Revolutionary soldiers, who still " lingered on the
shores of Time," as well as a more numerous company
of the soldiers of the War of 1812, to occupy the seats
of honor. Then came, first, the minister's prayer,
then the reading of the Declaration of Independence,
then the oration. Among the orators were the Hon.
John H. Craig and the Hon. Sherrard Clemens, both
bearing family names in our village neighborhood.
From the church the procession returned to the
village tavern. Turkey, roast beef, roast pig, pie,
cake, and coffee were the usual constituents of the bill
of fare afforded by the dinner. Then came the toasts:
" The President of the United States." " The Gov-
ernor of the Commonwealth." " The Heroes of the
Mexican War." " The Ladies, God bless them."
I believe in the celebration of the Fourth of July.
I sincerely trust that " the old-fashioned Fourth " will
never become so antiquated as to become distasteful to
the American people. The God of nations has given
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it a Scriptural warrant in the national festivals ordained
in the Constitution of the Hebrew Commonwealth.
The question of the Hebrew children: " What mean ye
by this service? " suggests the information which the
Fourth of July ought to give to the boys and girls of
America.
The foregoing picture gives the most prominence
to The Village Blues. We thought it a grand
spectacle to see them marching along the street with
glittering flintlock muskets, blue coats, and white
pants. By general consent they were the essential, the
attractive constituent of every " big muster " and
Fourth of July. One of my early recollections is the
interest with which we looked for their return from
the Pittsburgh Encampment. Then, too, under their
auspices an encampment was held on the village out-
skirts, which became an epoch in our domestic annals,
I suppose that every boy turned out to help the
" Blues " escort the visiting commands to the camp-
ing-ground. This very moment I hear the roar, and
see the smoke, and witness the charges of the Ten
Mile Rangers, in the sham battle. I must confess
that I have always liked the pomp rather than the
circumstance of war. This is certainly an honest con-
fession, for, as a little boy, I quivered and trembled as,
at least a half mile away, I looked on that sham battle.
Certainly on that day I could have gone beyond Ar-
temas Ward. He was perfectly willing that all his
wife's relatives should enlist. I could have added all
my uncles, aunts, cousins, even the most distant of my
kith and kin.
There were several wearers of military titles in or
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near Our Village Home. There was the venerable
Col. Benjamin Anderson, who saw service in the War
of 1812. His old age was the figure of a gentleman
wearing a crown of glory. There was Major Joseph
Bryant, who was a welcome visitor at the fireside, and
sat in the company which was wont to gather about
in the home or in the village store, with the dignity of
an oracle. There was Major Irwin, a prince among
neighbors, yet of unflinching fearlessness in the utter-
ance and maintenance of his opinions. There was that
magnificent personality. Captain Rider, who would
spend many a pleasant evening instructing the little
boys in the military manual; the legislator who, be-
cause he was fifty years ahead of his neighbors, and
voted that the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad should
have the right of way through Washington County,
Pennsylvania, was so shamefully treated by our vil-
lagers that he left for the West, to become an honored
citizen of the State of Iowa. There was the dignified
Capt. Charles Cracraft, who impressed a boy as a
master of the English language. There was Capt.
James Anderson, whom the whole community recog-
nized as the officer who was born, not made.
I select for description but two of the eccentricities
of our military organization. Jonathan had the
reputation of being one of the most awkward creatures
that ever wore a uniform or handled a gun. It would
have struck a stranger as very singular that he should
always march at the rear of the company. His sur-
prise would have disappeared if he had known that
Jonathan could scarcely go through the simplest
manoeuvre of the manual of drill without threatening
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to remove the headgear of every comrade within ten
feet of him, or exposing him to bodily harm. The
story went the rounds that he had been known to walk
clear out of the ranks to fall over a stone or log lying
by the wayside. Hence he was relegated to the rear,
where he could have plenty of room, and, without en-
dangering others, fall all around.
Another member of the company was known as
" ." The " Village Blues " were invited to
accept the hospitalities of the military of Wheehng
on a certain Fourth of July. Dinner was prepared at
the McLure House, at which ice cream and water-
melon were served as dessert. The ice cream was a
revelation to our friend, and it struck him as one of the
most delicious things that had ever passed his lips. It
did not take him long to transfer the contents of the
plate. The waiter, noticing its emptiness, politely in-
quired if there was anything else he would have.
" Yes," says " ," " you may give me another sasser
of cold puddin' and another slice of watermillion if you
have any more about the house." In the relation of
his adventure at Wheeling, he observed that the din-
ners at the McLure House were as good as the dinners
that were given at a certain farmhouse when they had
the threshing machine.
Our Village School
" Oh, were you ne'er a schoolboy ? "
Then the reader will not wonder that the boys and
girls of the past crowd out the scenes of the present.
I have a distinct impression of my first teacher, James
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Graham, but time has swept the incidents of his tute-
lage from the tablet of memory. Another early in-
structor, Simon Meredith, exhibited every phase of
temper as the pendulum swung between the extremes
of kindness and cruelty. He was followed by one of
the most womanly women I ever knew, Miss Margaret
K. Bell. She was succeeded by Dr. John McCall, an
able teacher and a stern disciplinarian. The next di-
rector of my studies was John P. Gamble, who took
great pride in the progress of his scholars. In the fore-
going list are to be included Thomas H. Atkinson and
George Bright Birch.
As I have pondered over my early school life I am
convinced that my education was rather mechanical
than thoughtful; that my teachers helped me in the
wrong way; that I memorized rather than grasped;
that I was not drilled in the art of expressing that
which I really knew.
But when I was in my fourteenth year, a teacher
(James Ely) came who did all this, and the world of
knowledge which spread out before me produced an
enthusiasm and delight like that which made Colum-
bus so glad when the New World first greeted his
vision.
As I write, my schoolmates emerge from the shades
of the past, and I see sober Tommy Ritezel. My head
touches that of Bill Humes, as together we hunt for the
unknown in the problems of arithmetic and algebra.
I study that combination of ability, kindness, and ill
temper known as Aaron Scott. I listen to the oracular
statements of Dan Miller. I feel, this moment, the
depression of the loneliness which possessed my soul
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when the Rider boys, George and Tom, went to Iowa;
when the Kurtz boys, Ike, Morgan, Bill, and Tom,
moved to Ohio. Who that ever knew Mark Dill will
forget the appearance of a certain face when the good
humor of his nature dissolved it into a grin? There
was Bill Cracraft, whose speech found its analogy in
the discharges of a Gatling gun. Jack Lloyd, in pluck
and positiveness, was worthy to bear the name of Gen.
Andrew Jackson. What a wide range of discussion
filled the time which two boys, Nelse McNeal and my-
self, took in our morning and evening walks to and
from the cow pasture. Curious Sam Rickey; the Tom
Nobles, known respectively as Squire's Tom and
Becky's Tom; the Abercrombies, Chester, Ned, and
Joe; the Gourleys, John and his brothers and cousins;
the Mecrackens, Sam and John; the Warrells, Bob,
Bill, and John; the McGills, Jim, Joe, and Sam; the
Stewarts, Bill and Reed; the boy of affairs, Kep.
Walker; companionable Jim Kerr, as it were, resurrect
the old schoolhouse with its lessons and the old play-
ground with its sports.
And as I close this roll-call of memory with the
names of Mary Mccracken, now in Denver; of Mary
Miller, now in Indiana; of Margaret Jane Mealy and
Mary Bell, now in Heaven, I once more bask " in the
laughing light and life of childhood " ; I once more
partake of " the gaiety that has known no check " ; I
once more act " the frankness that has felt no chill " ;
I once more indulge " the hope that has never with-
ered " ; I once more realize " the joys that fade in
blossoming."
A marked change in text-books took place during
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my school life. At its commencement the " New
England Primer," with its pictures illustrating such
couplets as
" In Adam's fall
We sinned all."
" Youth forward slips
Death soonest nips."
" The British king
Lost States thirteen " —
gave the primary scholar the first lessons in history,
theology, and patriotism. Lindley Murray's " Eng-
lish Reader " and the " Western Calculator," with its
pounds, shillings, and pence, were put into the hands
of the more advanced scholars. We used to make the
walls ring on the announcement, " SpelHng Lessons,"
with the enunciation of the letters as Lyman Cobb and
Salem Town arranged them into words. Our drill-
books in the English language were Cobb's and Mc-
Guffey's readers, McGuffey's being the more attrac-
tive on account of the illustrations. Perhaps my
schoolmates will remember the boy on the back of the
St. Bernard dog in McGuffey's " Second Reader " ;
the " Knowledge is Power," with the " ' I see, I see,'
said the little man " in McGuffey's " Third Reader " ;
the story of Inkle and Yarico in Cobb's " Fourth
Reader " ; the " Vision of Mirza " and the play of
" William Tell " in McGuffey's " Fourth Reader." I
do not know that our schools have ever had better
literature than the specimens which were gathered to-
gether in our readers.
One of my best text-books was Parker's " Progres-
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sive Exercises in English Composition." It taught us
to tell what we thought, Greenleaf s " Arithmetic "
gave me the best idea of figures. Davies' " Algebra "
initiated us into the unknown of the x. Smith gave us
the parts of grammar.
There was a sad lack of uniformity in our text-books.
The schools were not graded. Instruction, for the
greater part, was individual.
School government in the days of our youth recog-
nized corporal punishment as the rule rather than the
exception. It was generally understood that if the
schoolmaster did not thrash the big boys, those young
gentlemen would assume the control of the school-
master. Indeed, the teacher felt that until this ques-
tion was settled his school was not in full operation.
I am aware that the general crusade against corporal
punishment has been successful. Yet I will risk call-
ing attention to the following from that great medical
authority, the London Lancet:
SCHOOL CHASTISEMENTS
" Some grown persons would seem to think that there is no
true place for chastisement in a system of education. Such, at
all events, is our impression of those, and there are many par-
ents among them, who regard an ordinary beating given in
school as almost an indictable form of assault. People of this
kind have "evidently forgotten the singularities of their own
wayward youth, or perhaps their lives knew only a genial and
untroubled springtime of good conduct. In neither case can
their judgment be relied upon to form a rule of discipline for
the guidance of school teachers. The bad boy will continue
to deserve, and to repay with better behavior, his needful
thrashings, and even the good boy will sometimes err and will
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profit by corporal reproofs. The truth about physical punish-
ment, we may take it, is that it is indispensable — an evil, per-
haps, but a necessary one. It must be borne, but in order to
attain success with the least possible amount of injurious fric-
tion, it must also be regulated. There must be no impulsive
pulling about, no random strokes with the hand or the ruler, no
ear-boxing with its probable sequel — the ruptured tympanum.
The head should never be struck, not even slapped. We may
say the same of the body, but for one most tender but safely
padded prominence which appears to mark the naturally
appointed seat of childish affliction. We need hardly empha-
size the importance of guarding jealously against all displays
of temper while inflicting punishment. No doubt this is diffi-
cult with refractory children, but such a degree of self-govern-
ment as will enable parents or teachers to avoid the angry
moment is nevertheless requisite for success. A case occurred
lately which illustrates this point. It was that of a boy who
was beaten about the back and hand the day following a school
misdemeanor. Singularly enough, he injured his head next
day, and being at the time in poor health, though believed to
be well, died in a week from tubercular meningitis. At once
his teacher was blamed, but proof being brought that the
chastisement inflicted, was deliberate, orderly, and propor-
tionate, though the means employed were not quite regular,
he was entirely exonerated at a subsequent inquest. It would,
indeed, in many cases render the duties of a schoolmaster as
barren as difficult if he were not allowed a reasonable freedom
in physical correction. The possible occurrence of such inci-
dents as the above must, however, impress what we have said
as to method in its application."
A popular feature of our village school was the
examination and exhibition at the end of the term. A
stage was erected. The seat of honor was occupied
by the school directors of the district. There was not
standing room left for any who endeavored to push
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their way into the crowd which thronged the building.
Music, declamation, dialogue, and essay, serious and
humorous, relieved the monotony of the examination.
But our village schoolhouse was also the scene of
amateur theatricals, which were disguised by the name
of exhibition. Those performances cover the extent
of my attendance at the theatre. The favorite plays
were " Richard the Third " and " William Tell." For
weeks previous to their occurrence these exhibitions
were the talk of every household. I remember two of
the members of the orchestra, which varied in size, but
was generally confined to John Hoon and Thaddeus
C. Noble, as they played on the clarionet. The
former became a Presbyterian elder, and the latter was
well known in the political, commercial, and religious
circles of Washington County. A friend has told me
that, although this orchestra was often encored, its
music, in this later day of the world, would set your
teeth on edge and make your hair stand straight out.
The person, Dick Lamborn, who represented Richard
the Third was a consummate actor. Billy Ritezel,
who appeared as Queen Margaret, has been a printer,
newspaper editor, and publisher in Washington
County, and editor in and legislator of the State of
Ohio.
The closing performance of these exhibitions was
an impersonation of our colored brethren. Alfred
Prowitt, who was the " white man " who made him-
self the " nigger minstrel " of the occasion, died at a
good old age a short time since. How he could sing
"Dandy Jim," "Coal Black Rose," and "Gumbo
Chaff " !
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The schoolhouse yard furnished ample space for the
sports of childhood. We played " town-hall," " alley-
ball," " corner-ball," and " cat-ball," " prisoners' base,"
and " hunt the horn." We had our repertoire of those
quaint doggerels known as counting out rhymes, such
as
I
" Onery, twoery, Ickory Ann,
Filison, Folison, Nicholas, John ;
Queebie, Quawbie, English Mary,
Stringelum, Strangelum, Buck.
II
" Onery Urey, Ickory Avey,
Halibout, Crackabout, Tamboavey,
Mingo, Mango, Merry go Me,
Humbly, Bumbly, Ninety-three.
Ill
" Hayley, Mayley, Chickenny, Chaw,
Heepy, Peepy, Craney, Aw."
In the early period of my attendance at our village
school its curriculum was mostly confined to the three
R's. It was never widened so far as to embrace Ger-
man, French, etc. I smypathize with those who be-
lieve that but one language ought to prevail in the
American common school, and that language is the
English. There ought to be no such thing as a
German- American. There always will be, however, as
long as the encouragement is given to the difference
of tongues among the people. The fact ought to be
everywhere as a Michigan man is said to have put it:
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" I don't believe in this learning German, Spanish,
French, or any foreign language. Why, I lived among
a lot of Germans and got along with them just as well
as if I had known their language; but I didn't, not a
word of it."
On being asked, " How did you contrive it? " he re-
plied: " Why, you see, they understood mine."
An amusing phase of this idea is presented in the
following: A German enters a restaurant. An Irish
waiter greets him with " Good morning! " " Wie
gehtes? " answers the German. "Wheat cakes!" shouts
the Irishman to the kitchen. " Nein, nein! " protests
the German. To which the Irishman responds, " Faith,
and you'll be lucky if you get three."
All hail the common school! Rejected be the
thought, paralyzed be the effort, overthrown be the
church that would hinder, cripple, pervert, sectarianize,
destroy the common school. We cannot do without
this means of the general education of the people.
Without this fulcrum of rational freedom our Republic
is a failure.
Our Village Church
In the present paper it is proposed to present the
church of Our Village Home after the manner of a
composite picture, as we consider it in its interdenomi-
national aspect rather than in its particular phase of
Christian life and doctrine.
The Presbyterian house of worship was the prin-
cipal building of Our Village Home. The beauty of
its location served to render one less sensitive to the
12 169
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plainness of its architecture. The congregation which
gathered within its walls embraced the main portion of
the community. Its history is the registry of the in-
crease which God has given to the planting of Thomas
Hoge, and to the watering of Peter Hassinger, John
Knox, WilUam Wright, George Gordon, John Mil-
ler, David McConaughey, Nicholas Murray, Alex-
ander McCarrell, James L. Leeper, and Frank Fish.
And as I think of the three generations which have
worshipped in that church; of the sons of Levi who
have gone forth from those family pews to serve God
in the Gospel ministry; of the praises, the prayers, the
sermons, the communions, the Sunday-school ses-
sions, the singing schools, the revivals, which made
the Presbyterian meeting-house of Our Village Home
the house of God and the gate of Heaven — I feel that
the ideal is the logical consequent of the real when I
affirm that the venerable pile is a monument whose
proper inscription is, " Be thou faithful unto death, and
I will give thee a crown of life."
At the west end of Our Village Home there stood
the church home of a little band of the disciples of
John Wesley. Its exhibition of the consecration and
zeal of the noble founder of Methodism caused the
venerable men, godly women, and stalwart Christians
who made the quarterly meeting the event of the year,
to be a power for good in the community. Its roll of
ministers is an honorable one. I have a dim recollec-
tion of Rev. Mr. McCaskey. Among my first im-
pressions of the power of personal presence in a
preacher, one was derived from a little boy's view of
the famous presiding elder, Battelle. The utterances
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of Father Hudson, that old man eloquent, are still ring-
ing in my ear. To look upon the venerable Father
Hudson was to feel that you were before a man of
God. The time would fail me to tell of Messrs. Deeves,
Dempsey, Pugh, McGuire, Turner, Morrison, Boyle,
and others forgotten here, but not forgotten in God's
book of remembrance.
As I write, the congregation rises before me, the
males on one side of the house and the females on the
other, and Father Noble and Father Milligan are in
the Amen corner; that miracle of grace, John Zinn, is
shouting " Hallelujah " ; James and Samson Patterson
are holding to Christ in true Methodist fashion; that
man of affairs, Samuel D. Rickey, is walking with the
God who took him to Heaven, and sweet-tempered
Phillip Sliflfe is singing the songs of Zion.
Several families of Our Village Home worshipped
God in the Associate Church of South Buffalo. This
church represented the " straitest sect of the Presby-
terians " in our community. They praised God in
Rouse's version of the Psalms of David. They were
averse to occasional hearing. Their rehgious services
were somewhat protracted. They observed the Thurs-
day fast-day. They reverenced the holy Sabbath.
The South Buffalo pulpit was filled by able men.
" I always bowed in reverence before the good, grey
head" of Rev. David French, whose name was a
household word throughout the region during my
childhood. As long as he lived, the church customs
of the olden time were faithfully observed. Once I
heard him fencing the tables on a communion occa-
sion. He certainly proved that no one ought to sit
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down at the Lord's Table who was not on the right side
of the Ten Commandments. After Mr. French came
that fearless advocate of truth, that well-instructed
scribe, that genial companion, Rev. Dr. James Carson.
He was followed by the Rev. Alexander McLachlan,
under whose pastorate the meeting-house at South
Buffalo has been exchanged for the most beautiful
church in Our Village Home.
The South Buffalo Church emphasized the family
idea of the church. The names of Brownlee, Carson,
Crothers, Graham, Grimes, Knox, McMillen, McNeal,
Milhgan, Ralston, Sawhill, reminded one of the fami-
lies which clustered around the Tabernacle of the Wil-
derness.
But the rush of past recollections brings to view a
little church which stood on a hill a few miles to the
southward from Our Village Home. On that spot,
for nearly a century, the denomination with which
Peter Otterbein has linked his name has lifted the
banner of the cross. During my boyhood it was noted
for exhibitions of the phenomena of the old-time re-
ligious revival. The personality most prominently
identified with the history of the Zion Church of the
United Brethren in Christ was known by young and
old as Joshua Stoolfire. As a type of the emotional
in religion, he was a marked instance. As I think
of the times that Heaven came to him in the little
church, the Zion of Dutch Fork transforms itself into
the Mount Zion of the Book of Revelation, and the
voice of Joshua Stoolfire helps to swell the sound of
many waters which ascends to the Lamb that was
slain.
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Thus the Presbyterian, the United Presbyterian, the
Methodist, and the United Brethren churches were
the one Church of the Living God of Our Village
Home. " The unity of Christians," it has been well
said, " is not found in formality, in credal expression,
in propositional theology, in ecclesiastical arrange-
ment; down in the centre of the heart, in a place un-
touched, so to say, by human fingers, their lies the
common organic nerve that unites Christendom in its
worship and its hope."
And now I can only express my feeling concerning
Our Village Home by the accommodation of the
thought with which old Bishop Home closed his
" Meditations on the Psalms " : " Happier hours than
those which I spent amid its scenes I never expect to
see in this world. Very pleasantly did they pass, and
they moved smoothly and swiftly along."
It is sweet to have the Present smile upon us. We
look forward into the Future with all the charms of an-
ticipation. As we look back at Our Village Home of
the Past, " while our tears fall upon her," do we not
at least " dream that she smiles just as sihe did of yore"?
As the years roll by is not that Past dearer still? This
is natural, for
" Who that recollects young years and loves,
Though hoary now, and with a withering breast,
And palsied fancy which no longer roves
Beyond its dimmed eye's sphere,
But would much rather sigh like his son
Than cough like his grandfather ? "
O thou spot in which our spirit dwelt beneath the
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glorious dawning of life! beloved world of boyhood!
Though round and round thy boundaries the pigeons
could fly in five minutes; though the martens, as they
wheeled around the signboard box, described a circle
which took in the surrounding forests, there is not
in all the earth such an interchange of woods and
meadows, glens, dells, and rocks; such living beings as
those with which memory peoples our infancy and boy-
hood, whose voices, laughter, eyes, forehead, hands so
often grasped, arms linked in arms, have become
scarcely more than images and echoes. And I set
the strains of my heart to Christopher North's music
as I say: " Melancholy and not mirth doth he hope to
find who, after a Hfe of wandering, and maybe not with-
out sorrow, comes back on the places and homes
wherein to his eyes once grew the flowers of Paradise."
Flowers of Paradise are ye still; for praise be to God
the sense of the old home is still strong within us, and,
methinks, we could feel the beauty of the scene though
our heart were broken.
174
Appendix
Appendix
The Genesis of Claysville
I am indebted to the Claysville Recorder of Novem-
ber 17, 1897, for the following article:
A TRAMP PRINTER.
Samuel Haslett is the name given by a tramp printer
Who sauntered into the Recorder office last week.
Sixty summers and more he had seen, for he has been
a printer for nearly fifty years, and had only recently
come from the Pacific coast. He was clothed in a
roug*h suit and wore long iron gray hair and beard,
and in his prime must have been a man of striking
appearance.
But the curious part of his appearance here — his
first visit — it will be interesting to note, is that 100
years ago his grandfather, John Purviance, owned all
the land that Claysville is built upon. He said one
of Purviance's daughters was now living in Butler
County, and is past ninety years of age.
Looking up a little history we find that Claysville
is a part of a tract of land taken up by Thomas Waller
on a Pennsylvania warrant dated February 25, 1775,
and surveyed the second day of the following April
177
Appendix
as " Superfine Bottom." It adjoined the Robert
Walker tract of 420 acres taken up by a Virginia cer-
tificate dated January, 1780, that of Robert Henry and
other lands of Thomas Waller. The " Superfine Bot-
tom," which embraces the site of Claysville, was
passed by transfer to John Purviance. The old
Wheeling road was opened through it. By this road,
not long after the year 1800, Purviance opened a tav-
ern in a large two-story log house having three rooms
on the lower floor and four on the upper floor. This
house stood on the lot now owned by Thomas Griffith
and occupied by D. K. Irwin, landlord of the Bell
House. Purviance had been keeping tavern a num-
ber of years when the preliminary survey was made
for the great National Road from Wheeling to Cum-
berland. When it became certain by the final surveys
for location made under Col. Eli WilHams, that the
route of the road would pass his house, Purviance
promptly surveyed and laid out a prospective town.
He was a believer in the use of printer's ink and ad-
vertised in the Washington Reporter. The issue of
April 21, 1817, contained this advertisement:
Claysville. — The subscriber having- laid off a number of
building lots in the new town of Claysville, will offer the same
at public sale on the premises, on Thursday, the eighth day
of May next. Lots will be sold agreeably to a plan or plot
exhibited on the day of sale.
Claysville is distant ten miles from Washington westward,
and about eighteen east of Wheeling and six from Alexandria
(West Alexander). The Great National Road from Cumber-
land to Wheeling, as located by Colonel Williams and con-
firmed by the President and now rapidly progressing toward
its completion, passes directly through the town. The lots
178
Appendix
contain a front of fifty feet on the road and a depth back of
two hundred feet, with suitable and convenient avenues to
each block of lots. The " scite " of the town is beautiful, well-
watered, a fertile country around it and a good population.
To persons who may purchase and improve the present sea-
son, the subscriber will give timber for any frame building
that may be put without price. On the day of sale the terms
of credit will be made known.
John Purviance.
The first 'house built on the site of Claysville after it
was laid out by Purviance was erected by Simon Shurr
on property now owned by the Claysville Real Estate
Company, where the First National Bank now stands.
Following were houses built by a Mr. Miller and one
by Wm. Brownlee, a tailor, now occupied by W. R.
Jones and John Denormandie.
This tramp printer's grandfather also gave the lot
on which the first schoolhouse and the old Presby-
terian Church in this place were built, $225.50 being
subscribed to erect a school building. He is also said
to have donated the old cemetery lot.
In 1835-36, John Birch was the tax collector, and
William Milligan the town clerk, of the Borough of
Claysville. The following names appear on the tax
list:
James Armstrong, George Aston, John Barr,
Thomas Anderson, William Brownlee, John Brock-
man, Andrew Bell, Joseph Bryant, Abraham Brewer,
John Birch, Moses Bell, Basil Brown, Alexander
Chapman, Uriah Clarke, Lawrence Coffield, Eckart
Carrol, Samuel Cooper, Samuel Gamble, Aquila Gar-
retson, John Garret, Henry Giger, James Graham,
179
Appendix
William Humes, Joshua Howard, James Harvey,
Sara:h Hartzel, Joseph Henderson, Esq., Inggling
(sign maker), Henry Jamison, Lewis Jones, Dr. James
P. Kerr, Charles Knight, Hester Kurtz, John Kelly,
Daniel Kurtz, William Knox, Thomas Knox, Joel
Lamborn, William Milligan, Thomas Miller, Esq.,
John Marshall, Robert McNeal, Thomas McGiffin,
Esq., John McCracken, Joseph McCracken, William
Moor, Jonas Mills, Lemon McCarrell, James Noble,
William Porter, John Patterson, David Richey, John
Ritzell, Daniel Rider, Susanna Ralston, James
Shanon, Simon Shur, Mathias Snyder, James Sawhill,
Truesdell's (estate), Thomas Williams, Mrs. Vansickle,
Robert Woods, George Wyth, Alexander White,
James Wallace, George Wilson, William Jones.
The order with reference to delinquents, was that
" in case goods and chattels cannot be found suffi-
cient to satisfy the same (tax) with costs, you are
authorized to take the body of such delinquent and
convey him to the jail of this county, there to remain
until the taxes with costs be paid, or secured to be
paid, or otherwise discharged by due course of law."
Extract from the records of the Sunday-school,
1847:
Officer: Rev. Alexander McCarrell, Superintendent.
Managers: John Birch, S. D. Rickey, James Noble.
Classes
BOYS
I. Teacher: W. Darby.
Scholars: G. Hair, Morgan Kurtz, Joseph Noble,
180
Appendix
W. Kurtz, Jackson Loyd, James McCay, K. Walker,
John Moore, J. Abercrombie.
2. Teacher: J. Patterson.
Scholars: James Noble, David Marshall, F. A.
Birch, C. Haskinson, John Mills, J. Denormandie,
George Cracraft.
3. Teacher: W. McCarri'her.
Scholars: George McCay, William Craig, George
McCarriher, Robert Mitchell, Joseph Craig.
4. Teacher: T. C. Noble.
Scholars: G. W. F. Birch, William Humes, Thos.
Ritzel, Aaron Scott, Daniel Miller, George Rider,
Isaac Kurtz.
5. Teacher: Alexander K. Craig.
Scholars: George Miller, Wm. Wallace, Samuel
Rickey, Martin Moore, Thomas Noble, ist, Thomas
Noble, 2d, William Stewart, Joseph McKee.
GIRLS
1. Teacher: Margaret McCaskey.
Scholars: Mary McCracken, M. J. Mealy, Nancy
Miller, M. A. Moore, Anna M. Rider, Mary Bell,
Hester Meloy, Mary Meloy.
2. Teacher: Sarah McLain.
Scholars: N. C. Mounts, Deborah Russell, R. Anne
Scott, Mary Jane Scott, Mary E. Curry, Hannah R.
Craig, Mary Anderson.
3. Teacher: Nancy McLain.
Scholars: Harriet Campsey, Susan Campsey, S.
Ligget, M. Mills, M. Campsey, E. Campsey, H.
Blythe.
181
Appendix
4. Teacher: F. Alexander.
Scholars: E. Nease, Julia A. Mealy, Frances Mc-
Kee, Frances Loyd, Mary A. Miller, EHza Mills, C.
Ligget, E. Cracraft, C. Mcllvaine, Ann E. Aber-
crombie.
BIBLE CLASS
Teacher: Rev. Alexander McCarrell.
Members: John McLain, William R. Walker, M.
McCarrell, Hugh Craig, Thomas Atkinson, Findley
Robinson, Joseph McLain, M. H. Dean, T. S. Irwin,
Calvin King, M. L. Stillwagen, D. C. Cracraft.
Sarah McLain, Miss Campsey, M. J. Rider, S. Rob-
inson, Mary A. Ritezel, Margaret Anderson, Rachel
Warrell, M. A. Noble, M. J. Humes, Hannah Mc-
Cracken, Rebecca Henderson, Margaret A. Craig,
Sarah Warrell, Mehitable Noble, Mary McLain,
Susan Humes, Charlotte George, Frances George.
The following scholars received Testaments as a
reward for memorizing the Scriptures:
Verses. Verses.
Thomas Ritzel 323 George W. F, Birch. . . 350
Mary Byers 1,027 Mary Alexander 253
Mar)-- E. Curry 456 M. A. Moore 260
J.Craig 456 Mary Bell 265
W. Craig 360 George McCay 350
James Woods 351 Margaret Hall 268
Susannah Ralston 350 Margaret J. Mealy 262
Harriet Campsey 350 Emma Tjano 253
Mary Meloy 265 Margaret Campsey 250
Extract from the report of the gentleman who had
182
Appendix
charge of the Claysville School during the year 1844.
We give it without any alteration in the way of correc-
tion.
Names of Scholars. Age.
Jno. Humes 12
M. Lamborn 15
C. Garrotson 14
E. Dickinson 13
Thos. Kerr 14
Wm. Ritzel 14
D. Callohan 15
C. King 15
Matilda Lamborn 11
M. Ritzel II
M. J. Rider 11
Jack Lamborn 17
Jno. Kerr 11
Jno. Noble 12
C. Anderson 16
M. Noble 17
J. McNeal 17
Jas. McNeal 15
Sam. Henderson 15
Wilm. McConahey 16
Isaac Kurtz 10
David McConahey 11
James Kerr 10
Thos. Ashbrook 12
Nelson McNeal 10
Lemon Shannon 10
Geo. Rider 10
Wilm. Humes 10
M. Walker 11
James Anderson 21
Will. Anderson 14
Na7nes of Scholars. Age.
S. Lindley 20
M. Ashbrook 15
E. Ashbrook il
M. Ashbrook 9
M. McNeal 7
Wm. Dennison 12
Jam. Dennison 10
Jno. Dennison 6
Jane Dennison 8
M. Kerr 7
A. M. Rider 8
Jas. Woods 10
Jno. Woods 8
Jane Anderson 13
Jno. Worrell 11
S. Worrell 14
C. Humes 13
E. Meredith 13
H. McCracken 15
L. Cooper 16
Sam. McCracken 15
Jno. McCracken 10
M. McCracken 7
Jas. Noble 12
Jos. Noble 8
Thomas Noble 9
Mahe. Noble 13
M. J. Noble 13
N. M. Walker 12
Thos. Ritzel 10
Ann Gourley 9
183
Appendix
Names of Scholars. Age.
M. Kurtz 7
W.Kurtz 6
Wm. Woods 6
M. Dille 12
M. J. McConahey 6
Hen. Gourley 8
Rob. Gourley 1 1
Jno. Gourley 5
Jas. McCay 5
Geo. McCay 7
Deb. Russel lo
R. Miiligan i6
T. Russel 9
R. Wells 17
J. Wells 15
Thos. Dougherty 12
Jas. McConahey 12
Jane McConahey 11
McConahey 7
Aa, Scott 12
R. Scott 8
W. Worrell 16
Bright Birch 18
J. Mills 9
M.A.Bennett 9
S. McDonald 17
Joe. McCracken 10
Jos. McKee 7
Names of Scholars. Age.
D. Miller 7
M. Miller 6
George Birch 6
Jos. White 9
J. Lloyd 7
F.Lloyd 6
C. Coler 7
O. Tiffany 6
S. Ligget 7
Jno. Ligget 9
Liggett 5
Har. McDonald II
R. Nevvlan 8
M. Bell 7
R. Meredith 8
M. Shannon 14
Thos. Rider 5
Mary Anderson 12
M. J. Mealy 6
J. Peek 12
A. Peek 9
Fran. McKee 6
S. Sprout 7
Syl. Sprout 8
C. Humes 6
Wil. Kerr 6
S. M. McKee 8
The foregoing report contains a comment on each
scholar, such as the following:
"An extraordinary boy; very attentive, and has
made progress that riper years might envy." — " A
very good boy, and has made excellent progress." —
" A very studious girl." — " Has improved very much."
184
Appendix
" More attention would be desirable; too fond of
writing." — " Would learn if he would." — " Learns
very well, but he is hard to keep at it." — " A good boy,
but hard to keep at his books." — " An extraordinary
boy to learn figures." — "Industrious." — "Learns well;
came very irregularly." — " Learns very well; an ex-
traordinary boy; an excellent speller off the book." —
"Smart boy; learns well; mischievous." — "When at
school, learns." — " Learns well, but is fond of quar-
rellinsf."
Remarks of Joel Truesdell,*
West Alexander, Penn.
It affords me a great deal of pleasure to be with
you on this anniversary occasion. My memory car-
ries me back nearly sixty years at least. I believe
that I am the oldest person now living in this vicinity
who was born in Claysville — this church being but two
years older than myself. I remember some of the
first members of this church, the first elders and their
successors to the present time. I remember Rev.
Thomas Hoge very well; heard him preach when I
was a boy not more than six years old.
The first church building, as you are all aware, was a
very plain one. Many of the seats were without backs,
and the pulpit was unpainted. I attended the Sunday-
school in this old building at a very early age. The
*The copy for this interesting address was received too late
for proper classification.
13 185
Appendix
late Joseph Donahey led the singing. His father was,
perhaps, the superintendent; at any rate he was present
in some capacity. We recited Scripture and received
blue and red tickets — for ten blue tickets we received
a red one.
I remember when the bricks for the present building
were made. My father had the contract for building
it, as Dr. Birch has told you — and just now I want
to thank him for the tribute he has paid him, which
I know he deserved. Thomas Gourley made the
bricks on the lot north of the alley running east and
west. This lot is on what now constitutes the new
extension. I think the kiln was located on the pres-
ent Greene Street. I remember — while this kiln of
brick was being made — of going out to Mr. Gourley's
and staying all night. After supper I was put to bed
with one of the boys and slept the sleep of the just.
Many of you may remember the humble log house
in which Mr. G. lived. The older members of this
church will remember that slaves bought in Virginia
and Maryland were taken through this region to the
South for sale. When a young boy, as I remember,
I heard of two slaves who were handcufifed together
and who had m.ade their escape. The story was told
that Mr. Gourle)'' saw them, broke their handcuffs and
sent them on their way to liberty. I believe this to be
true as I have never heard it contradicted. A reward
that had been offered was no inducement to Mr.
Gourley to assist in their return. These scenes are
happily no more witnessed.
Dr. Birch received to-day a letter from Mrs. B. F.
i86
Appendix
Jones, of Pittsburgh, which I now read to you. The
Jones family was one of the early families of Claysville.
B. F. Jones will be remembered as the Chairman of
the National Committee during the campaign when
Mr. Blaine was a candidate for President. The Jones
family and that of my father were always on the most
intimate terms. Jacob Jones, the father, lived to be
over ninety years of age, his wife having died some
years before. Of seven sons of Jacob Jones only two
are now living — General G. A. Jones, of Mount
Vernon, O., and B. F. Jones, of Pittsburgh, before
mentioned. Mrs. Frazier, the oldest daughter, is liv-
ing at Beaver, Penn., and perhaps other daughters are
living.
I will omit saying anything about the successors of
Mr. Hoge, as Dr. Birch has told you all that I know.
I have heard them all preach.
I note with pleasure the many young people of this
church who have taken an active part in making this
anniversary a success. Two generations have passed
away during my remembrance, and the mantles of the
departed ones must rest on your shoulders. And may
God give you grace to perform your duty in such a
manner as will redound to His glory and the good of
the church. I may say of this church that I have
known it in adversity and in prosperity. I believe that
God has always been with you and is still with you,
and if you are faithful in duty to Him, He will abide
with you unto the end.
And now my prayer is that " Peace may be within
your walls and prosperity within your palaces." " That
your sons may be as plants grown up in their youth;
187
Appendix
that your daughters may be as corner stones polished
after the simiHtude of a palace; and that you may al-
ways be that people whose God is the Lord."
Keithsburg, Mercer County, III.
September 19, 1895.
Messrs. Irwin, T. B. Craig, Sr., T. G. Noble, and
others, Committee of Invitation.
Claysville, Washington Co., Penn.
My dear Brethren: — Your kind invitation to your
anniversary occasion received. In response would say
that it would afford me supreme delight to be present
with you, and bear some humble part by presence and
word, in your festivities in planting the seventy-fifth
milestone in the pathway of the grand old church by
which the loving Master has led you, "*lo, these many
years," but absence from home, the long interval of
distance, expense, and the pressure of business and
work in this, my new and only field of missionary
labor (having recently come on the field), deny me,
at this time, a pleasure, under other circumstances, I
should certainly enjoy.
As memory recalls the past, what hallowed asso-
ciations! what signal manifestations of the Divine!
what greetings and friendships! what influences
spiritual! what godly men in pulpit and home and
citizenship! what children, trained in the nurture and
admonition of the Lord, witness to the Christian
188
Appendix
character of the household the fathers and mothers
who have so faithfully carried out their vows and
covenants with God in the history of Washington
County Presbyterianism ! Of the Rev. Thomas Hoge,
who filled your pulpit as the first pastor for fifteen
years, and Rev. Peter Hassinger, who succeeded him
for four years, I had no particular knowledge. The
historic is all I know in reading; but with the sainted
McCarrell, who served your church for thirty-five
years, I had the most pleasant relationships in Presby-
tery, in interchanges of communion service, and fellow-
ship and in his own home, of precious and endeared
memory. What a grand man he was socially! Con-
tact with him was enchantment, delight; he seemed to
lose himself in making others happy. As a minister,
while he honorably carried- his " D.D.," there was no
walking on ecclesiastical stilts; his character, while
sacrificing naught of principle, was of the " circulat-
ing " order: it showed best among the people with
whom he was ever in living contact; he always had a
" Good morning" or a " How do you do?" for the
non-churchgoer and the unsaved. His sermons were
studied and preached in prayer and the richness of
the Gospel of Christ. His prayers — as I have listened
to them — seemed to be an unction from the Spirit. I
shall never forget a prayer of his, at the close of a
sacrameiltal season, when, with the tears coursing over
his cheeks, he pleaded with God for those who had
again refused " to do this in remembrance of me."
Those seed-sowings beside all waters have not been
lost; his tears have been put into God's bottle, and his
works follow him, while he has entered his rest with
1S9
Appendix
Eagleson, Stockton, Marquis, and Greer, of the old
Presbytery of Washington.
I should love to hear the addresses of the brethren
at your anniversary. Their names certify their interest
and character, especially of the sons of the church.
May not their orthodoxy on the lines of a German
rationalism and biblical inerrancy have its parentage
in a godly training in church and homes around Clays-
ville? When I would write of the eldership my eyes
fill with tears, for tender, sundered ties are touched, and
the recollections of years now past crowd themselves
upon me. Oh! what names! what characters! rise up
before me: Henderson, Craig, Noble, McKee, Mc-
Lain, Sawhill, and others whom I might name. What
witnesses for Christ in a devoted eldership ! The church
having such Aarons and Hurs to uphold the hands
of the pastor must " go forward." You may find men
with more pomp and finish, and much of it too, like our
Sabbath day clothes put on for the time, but better men
called to the work and willing to work never honored
their calling as elders than those in Claysville Church
and others in the churches of the old Presbytery.
Of the remaining I must not speak at length. I
remember many of them (some of them associated with
that " big turkey arrangement ") (ask Jonathan about
this?), good Christian men. I honor their memories
— and your noble women. God bless them! Any-
thing I might say could not increase their good name.
I wish you to see that old patriarch, Hon. John Birch;
give him a good Presbyterian shake for me and my
kindest greetings; remember me to the many friends
in Claysville and surroundings. In concluding this
igo
Appendix
already too long epistle, I want to unite with you in
thanksgiving to God for all His tender mercies shown.
I congratulate Bro. Fish, his session, and member-
ship upon the God-given success and prosperity of the
church in the past, in the present. As verified by the
past, let the Davidic sentiment be your inspiration
in the years to come: "Walk about Zion, and go
round about her : tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well
her bulwarks, consider her palaces; that ye may tell it
to the generation following. For this God is our God
for ever and ever: he will be our guide even unto
death " (Ps. xlviii. 12-14).
Fraternally yours in X,
J. D, Walkinshaw.
The Invitation and Programme
You are cordially invited to attend the Seventy-fifth or Dia-
mond Anniversary of the Presbyterian Church, at Claysville,
on Friday, September 20, 1895, when we will commemorate
the organization of our church, revive old and pleasant mem-
ories and the early struggles of a church which has been so
richly blessed of God.
W. A. IRWIN,
T. B. CRAIG, Sr.,
T. G. NOBLE,
W. J. BURNS,
J. T. NOBLE,
Programme
1:00 P.M.
Devotional Exercises.
Address of Welcome, . . . W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn.
Response, . . Rev. Francis M. Hall, Conneautville, Penn
History of the Church, Rev. G. W. F. Birch, D.D., New York.
191
Appendix
The Pew of the Church, . . Rev. J. M. Mealy, D.D., New
Wilmington, Penn.
Reminiscences of Pastors and Presbytery :
Rev. W. H. Lester, D.D., West Alexander, Penn.
Rev. Wm. Speer, D.D., Washington, Penn.
Rev. Henry Woods, D.D., Washington, Penn.
Rev. D. A. Cunningham, Wheeling, W. Va.
Rev. J. I. Brownson, D.D., Washington, Penn.
7:30 P.M.
Opening Exercises.
The Church and College, . . . Rev. J. D. Moffat, D.D.,
Washington, Penn.
The Boy at Church, . . Rev. A. A. Mealy, Bridgeville, Penn.
The Social Church, . . Rev. E. O. Sawhill, Allegheny, Penn.
Voluntary Remarks.
Programme interspersed by special music, including " Songs
by Ye Olde Folks."
Aledo, Mercer County, III.
September 17, 1895
Messrs. W. A. Irwin and Martin Finley.
Dear Sirs: — I received your letters in due time,
stating your arrangement to hold and celebrate the
seventy-fifth anniversary of the Claysville Presbyterian
Church on the 20th of this month, and that you have
so kindly invited my presence with you, to participate
in the solemn services of the day in giving thanks to
Almighty God for His fostering care over His church
of Claysville.
I am sorry that circumstances will not permit me
to be present in person ; therefore I send you this letter
regarding the earlier history of the church, so far as
my knowledge goes.
The Claysville Church was organized in the fall of
192
Appendix
1820 by Rev. Thos. Hoge. I commenced going
regularly to the Claysville Church in 1828, when tlicy
were occupying the old church building.
In the summer of 1830 there were communion
services; the church not being large enough to hold
the people, arrangements were made to hold the meet-
ing in a grove near by. A tent was erected. Rev. Hoge
preached the sermon from the words: " Prepare to
meet thy God, oh Israel."
These words seemed to stir the hearts of the people,
showing that God was in the midst with convincing
and converting power.
One young man was so deeply affected that he burst
into tears and went into the grove to be alone for
meditation. There were fifteen received into the church
on profession of faith, and eight received by letter.
It was a solemn scene when those fifteen came for-
ward and were received into full membership in the
church; it was also a glad scene to the parents and the
church.
The Church Record is full until Rev. Wm. Wright
became stated supply from 1841 to '42. During this
time, at one of our meetings shortly before Mr. Wright
left, the Church Records were presented to be looked
over. He was looking them over and remarked, " If
this book goes to Presbytery in this shape it will not
come back." Then some one of the session asked for
what reason. His answer was, " It is so informal."
One of the session said, " Mr. Wright, you take it and
fix it in shape to go before Presbytery." That was the
last we saw of the book until after he left. I found the
book in his room with a part of the records cut out
193
Appendix
and destroyed. I went to Presbytery with the book
in a worse shape than when Mr. Wright got it. When
I explained matters, there was severe criticism against
him.
If you look at the old book you will see how much
of the record is missing.
In 1856 we had another manifestation of the Spirit's
power. About twenty were received on profession, and
others by letter. This was under the pastorate of Rev.
McCarrell, the winter before we left Claysville. I am
so glad God has still remembered His church in Clays-
ville. As I look back over the past and remember the
names of those who were ruling elders in the church
with me, and who were ruling elders when I was re-
ceived into the church — ^Jos. Donahey, Sr., Archibald
Brownlee, Thos. Stewart, Wm. McLain, Geo. Mc-
Conahey, Hugh Craig, Nicholas Bearly, John Hoon —
who have all passed away with the exception, perhaps,
of one or two, it makes a deep impression on my mind
when I remember the happy days which we spent to-
gether in the church.
I hope that the blessings of God may continue to
follow the labors of the present and coming session
and pastors, and that the Church of Claysville may be
a bright and shining light that others may see their
good works and glorify our Father which is in
Heaven.
And with these greetings to the brethren and Church
of Claysville, I will close. Please remember me in
your meeting.
I remain your brother in Christ,
Robert Woods.
194
Appendix
To the Christian brethren and sisters of tlic Pres-
byterian Church of Claysville.
September, 1895.
When I first read in the county paper a notice that
you were to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary of
the dear old church, my earnest desire was to be with
you — to mingle once again in tiiis world with dear
brethren and sisters in the Lord — to sit once more
within the old sacred walls where, for a goodly number
of years, it was my blessed privilege to sit under the
ministry of that faithful and devoted man of God, Dr.
McCarrell. This desire to be with you, under the cir-
cumstances, seems to be denied me, and I send these
lines to tell you that my love for and interest in the
old church's welfare and prosperity remain with me
and have never forsook me during these many years.
Since I felt constrained, as I trust from duty and con-
viction, to sever my connection with the dear old
church and connect myself with another, how could it
be otherwise, that I should not cherish such feelings
towards a place connected from earliest childhood
with the holiest and most sacred associations — a place
where, if ever I experienced that greatest of all changes,
that change wherein only a man begins truly to live,
the change from death unto life called the " new
birth," it was there — a place where for many years I
enjoyed uninterruptedly the means of grace in which
my soul was often filled with " joy unspeakable and
full of glory " and " a peace that passeth all under-
standing," where I seemed to " sit in heavenly places in
Christ Jesus"? How could I but cherish toward such
a place the warmest feelings of interest, how could my
195
Appendix
prayer be other than " Peace be within thy walls and
prosperity within thy palaces " ? " If I forget thee, O
Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning."
My connection with the church commenced in the
early years of Dr. McCarrell's ministry. My whole
soul was absorbed in religious things. They filled my
waking hours, and often in the night, when sleepless,
I wanted to read on no other subject. How I longed
for the Sabbath when I could give myself wholly
to these things, and how precious to me were the
communion seasons observed regularly every three
months ! How eagerly I looked forward to them — a ser-
vice Friday and Saturday, two on Sunday, and a con-
cluding one on Monday ! They were verily feast times
to my soul. How I longed to hear those venerated
men that assisted the pastor on those occasions, such as
Dr. Stockton, Dr. Eagleson, Dr. McKennan, Dr. Mc-
Cluskey, Dr. Brownson, Dr. Lester, the two Herveys,
and the two Griers, and others I need not name!
How they thrilled and profited my soul by their able
expositions of Bible truth, and what an unction
seemed to attend their words so that the old truths
seemed fresh and new! What sweet and heavenly and
soul-satisfying seasons they were to me, and how often
on Monday have I went away sad and burdened at
heart that so long a time would elapse before I could
enjoy another! I have reason to bless God that my
Christian life began under such a devoted and conse-
crated man as Dr. McCarrell. Few men were so wholly
given to the work, or could say more truly with Paul,
" This one thing I do." What a high ideal of what
the Christian life should be he ever held before his peo-
196
Appendix
pie, and how tenderly and solemnly and with many tears
did he warn and entreat the sinner to turn and Hvc!
What a work he accomplished for Claysville and vicin-
ity, eternity alone can reveal, and how lonp its ijitluence
will last in this world, who can tell? But I will weary
you. I will close with one of the weighty inferences
of St. Paul. He had been speaking of the Resurrec-
tion, of the glorious reunion of all the saints in their
heavenly home, of their final victory over sin, death,
and hell. He says, " But thanks be to God who giveth
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. There-
fore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, unmovable,
always abounding in the work of the Lord, for as much
as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord,"
Joseph F, Craig,
Reserve, Kan.
Shippensburg, Penn,, August 2J, 1895.
Mr. W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn.
My dear Friend Will: — Your letter inviting me to
attend the seventy-fifth anniversary of the old church
at Claysville on the 20th of next month, came while I
was away from home on my vacation. I came home
only a few days ago, and I now hasten to reply. It
would give me the greatest pleasure, on many ac-
counts, to be present at this anniversary, for I love the
old church, and anything I could do for its true pros-
perity I would do most cheerfully. It was in this
church that my sainted father spent the most of the
years of his life and almost all of his ministerial life,
and it was for this church that he toiled and prayed and
sacrificed; and it was here that the Lord gave him such
197
Appendix
signal success, and he now wears in heaven, as I be-
lieve, the many seals of his faithful ministry. The very
fact that so many of the sons of this church have gone
into the ministry is the mark of a success which any
preacher of the Gospel might well covet. It was in
this dear old church that I spent the days of my child-
hood and youth, and there, as I trust, I gave myself
to the Lord and to the ministry of the Word. It was
in this church that many of my beloved kindred lived
and labored, and it was from this church that they
went to " join the general assembly and church of the
first-born in heaven " ; and here, also, were and are
many of my best earthly friends. For these and many
other reasons I shall never cease to love the old church
and to pray for her true prosperity. Yet, notwith-
standing all of this, I feel that it would not be best for
me to go there at the present time. Quite a number
of my relatives have but recently gone out of the
church; quite a number are still in it, and I fear that
my coming to this anniversary at this time would not
be altogether comfortable for me. Taking everything
into consideration, I feel that it would be better for me
just now to stay away. I have taken no part whatever
in the controversies which have rent the old church;
I want to take no part now. That there have been
sad faults and mistakes on both sides, every one must
admit. My prayer to God is that all of these breaches
may be healed ; that the past may be forgotten ; that all
may forgive, as they hope to be forgiven; and that by a
mighty outpouring of the Holy Spirit on those who
have gone out as well as on those still in the old church,
those who have gone out may come back to the
198
Appendix
church of their fathers, and all being " bound together
in the bonds of Christ's love," the church may have a
more glorious future than it has ever had in the past!
For this consummation I will ever pray; and if there
is anything that I can do to bring it about I will do it
most cheerfully. I want it to be distinctly understood
that that old church is my church, and for it I will ever
stand. I regret exceedingly that I cannot see my way
clear to attend the proposed celebration. You can
easily see the position in which I am placed. I thank
you for the invitation, and I trust you may have a
profitable and pleasant time. I will be glad to have
a full report of the proceedings. If there is anything
which I can do, let me know. With kindest regards
to you and all inquiring friends,
I am, yours most sincerely,
W. A. McC.\RRELL.
Keokuk, Iowa, September i6, 1895.
W. A. Irwin, Claysville, Penn.
Dear Sir: — Your letter and invitation, inviting me
to the diamond anniversary of the Presbyterian Church
of Claysville, Penn., received, and I am sorry to write
you that my business engagements are such that I
cannot accept the invitation and be present on that
interesting occasion. Nothing would give me greater
pleasure than to go back among my old friends and the
associates of my childhood days and participate in the
celebration of the three-quarter century anniversary
of the existence of the old church where I received my
religious education. There are so many hallowed
memories around the old church where I spent my
199
Appendix
early life that it would be certainly a very great privi-
lege to be present with those who will be assembled
there, and listen to the reminiscences of its life and
history, and if I could possibly spare the time I would
consider it a high privilege and honor to be permitted
to have a voice in the proceedings. I know you will
all enjoy the occasion, and I can assure you that my
best wishes will be with you upon that day.
May the Divine Master who has followed that
church through all these years and given it so great
success, and from whose bosom have gone out so many
candidates for the Gospel ministry, cause it to be as
highly blessed in the future as it has been in the past.
I am, very truly yours,
John E. Craig.
3447 Prairie Ave., Chicago, Se^L 15, 1895.
W. A. Irwin, T. B. Craig, Sr., and others of the Com-
mittee, Claysville, Penn.
Gentlemen: — Your kind invitation to be present on
the 20th inst. on the occasion of the seventy-fifth anni-
versary of the Presbyterian Church of Claysville, Penn.,
is just received. I thank you. The time is so short
I will not be able to arrange my business so as to
attend. This I very much regret.
To me there is no spot on earth about which so
many pleasant, sacred memories cluster as about the
dear old Church at Claysville. There, under the tutor-
ship of the sainted McCarrell, who was to me both
teacher and friend, I was rooted and grounded in the
wholesome doctrines of the church, through its
Appendix
Shorter Catechism and Bible teachings. Through
these teachings came habits of logical thought which
have ever had an influence upon my life-work.
I would love again to meet the dear friends of my
youth and mingle my tears with theirs to the mem-
ory of the sainted McCarrell and others of the dear
ones who have joined him.
Trusting the occasion may be one of the greatest
enjoyment to you all, I am,
Yours truly,
John M. Hoon.
Aledo, III., September i6, 1895.
T. B. Craig, Claysville, Penn.
Dear Sir and Brother: — Your kind invitation to the
Diamond Anniversary of the old home church to
hand. What a stream of loving memories it brings to
us! A glance at the programme shows so many names
of old day and Sabbath-school associates. We are
sorry to have to send our regrets instead of being pres-
ent in person, but will be there in thought and spirit
on that day. Our Presbyterian Church here has quite
a number who claim the old Brick Church as their
parent church. Robt. Woods (whose failing strength
only keeps him from being with you), Wm. Woods,
John G. and Nannie McGuffin, A. W. Henderson and
wife, Mrs. Anna Hammond (;//r Henderson), and J.
F. Henderson, are those we can call to memory at
this time. That the day may be a glorious and long-
to-be-remembered one in social and spiritual blessing,
and that you may all be spared for many years of
14 201
Appendix
useful work in the Master's vineyard, is the wish of
your friends.
A. W. Henderson.
J. F. Henderson.
Concordia, Kansas, September i6, 1895.
T. B. Craig, Sr., Claysville, Penn.
My dear Friend: — Your letter of invitation to be
present or write a letter for the seventy-fifth anniver-
sary of the Claysville Presbyterian Church is at hand.
It is not possible for me to be present, and the time
is too brief to write more than to tell you how I would
like to be there. I often think of my old church; two
names always rise before me in this connection: Rev.
Alexander McCarrell and A. K. Craig. It would
hardly seem like home to me without them. While
the church has had many godly men, the impressions
of my youth, or childhood rather, that the above two
men were " the church," cling to me. Now, the prin-
cipal statement I want to make in this letter is the
hope that all the addresses, speeches, letters, etc., will
be published in book form. I think you could sell
enough to cover expenses. I will promise to take one.
To me the next best thing to being piesent will be
to read all about it; the book would prove valuable to
future generations. If you have not made arrange-
ments along this line I trust you will consider it.
Trusting that the blessing of our Heavenly Father may
be on the church in the future as in the past,
I am, yours truly,
William F. Sawhill.
Appendix
Wayneshoro, Penn., Aui^ust 27. 1895.
Mr. W. A. Irwin.
Dear Friend: — Your favor of August 13th, informing
me of the proposed celebration of the " scvcnty-liftli "
or " Diamond Anniversary " of the Claysville Presby-
terian Church, on September 20th next, was duly
received.
I thank you for your cordial invitation to be present
and take part in the exercises of that occasion. It
would afford me great pleasure to be with you at that
time. The old church is very dear to me, both because
it was the church of my youth and especially because
of father's long connection with it as pastor. I find,
however, that it will not be convenient for me to at-
tend the anniversary exercises. I regret very much
that I cannot be present to join with you all in calling
to mind the work and the men of the past. I will be
with you in spirit, if not in person.
I sincerely hope that you may have a most pleasant
and profitable anniversary. And I earnestly pray that
the present members of the old church may be blessed
with an abundant outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon
them, and that in the spirit of " the fathers " they may
enter with new zeal upon the Lord's work during the
closing quarter of the century. May the last twenty-
five years of the hundred years of the church's history
be the best!
Thanking you again for the invitation, and wishing
you all abundant success, and with kindest regards
for you personally, I am,
Yours sincerely,
Titos. C. McC.^RRELL.
203
Appendix
Obituary
Died November 29th, Thaddeus Clark Noble, of
Claysville, Penn,, in the sixty-fourth year of his age.
A good man has gone to his reward. A life has
passed away that leaves behind it an influence for good.
The light in a happy home has been quenched in the
darkness of death, and yet the sad hearts that are left
are not without consolation. A long life of constant
service in the cause of Christ, an untiring zeal and un-
wavering testimony for Jesus, give absolute assurance
that he who has gone has entered into the rest pre-
pared for the people of God.
T. C. Noble was born December 29, 1818, in Amwell
Township, but most of his life was spent in the town
of Claysville. His life was a busy and industrious one.
Constantly and actively engaged in extensive business,
he was a public benefit to the community in which he
lived. He was strictly honorable and upright in his
dealings, and his character for honesty was without
reproach. He was a public man. He promoted by
his influence and means every useful enterprise. He
was a patron of education and one of the earliest advo-
cates of temperance. He was kind to the poor and he
never turned a deaf ear to the cry of the needy. A
kind and devoted husband and one of the best of
fathers, he was especially happy in the relations of
home. As a citizen he conscientiously discharged his
duty to the State by an active and intelligent participa-
tion in public affairs. As a member of the community
204
he constantly promoted peace and, although enji^aped
in extensive business, never was a party to a lawsuit.
But, above all, as the crowning virtue of his life, he
was a humble, devoted, and faithful Christian. His
voice and influence in the church were always for peace
and harmony. He was a liberal giver to all the be-
nevolent enterprises of the church. His place in the
church on the Sabbath was seldom ever vacant, and
his voice was ever heard in the social prayer-meeting.
He was an active member of the Young Men's Chris-
tian Association until declining health forbade the
work in which his heart was engaged. He loved chil-
dren, and it was his special delight to do them good.
For many years he had been the faithful and efficient
superintendent of the Claysville Presbyterian Sabbath-
school. His punctuality was remarkable. In all
these many years the writer only remembers two Sab-
baths which he missed being in his place until illness
kept him away, and even then his heart was in the
school. The Sabbath before he died he told his wife
he thought he could go. We will ever remember his
untiring and unwearied efforts to impress Scripture
texts on the minds of the children. No doubt the seed
thus sown and consecrated by prayer will bring forth
a rich and abundant harvest. His record is on high,
and his reward is sure. His home is with the blood-
washed throng in the city which has no need of the
light of the sun, for the Lamb is the light thereof.
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from hence-
forth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from
their labors; and their works do follow them.
Alexander K. Craig.
205
Appendix
The following item is furnished by one of the
leading physicians of Pittsburgh :
" I desire to personally acknowledge and express
my thanks to Mr. J. T. Noble for the interest that he
has taken in not only the historical exercises of this
church, but particularly the memorial exercises. He
was the first to visit Mrs. Patterson, of Philadelphia,
and engage her interest in these exercises, as well
as to renew her interest in this church and its future
welfare. It was especially fitting for him to do so,
as this church had its origin through the influence
of the Rev. Thomas Hoge and his grandfather
Truesdell."
206
Rites Tonight
JH'U&'feVai sefViCfesNior Major Wil^
Ham Mathison Hogg, 56, assistant to
the vice president of the National
Tube Company, and World war vet-
eran, who died Monday night in his
home, 306 Maple avenue, Edgewood,
will be held tonight in the home.
Burial will be private, tomorrow
morning. In Monongahela cemetery,
Brad^ock.
Major Hogg was born in Dundee,
Scotland, and was associated with his
father, George Hogg, for many ears
as a contractor, one of the jobs he
supervised being the erection of the
Masonic Temple, Oakland. He was a
lieutenant colonel in the United
States army ordnance reserve, and
saw active service as a captain and
major in the production division,
army ordnance, during the war. He
was made chairman of the clairrs
adjudication board after the war and
served until it was disbanded. He
had been assistant to the vice presi-
dent at the general offices of the Na-
tional Tube Company in Pittsburgh
for the last 12 years.
He was past master of the Brad-
dock Field Lodge, No. 510, F. & A.
M. ; past potentate of Syria Temple,
A. A. O. N. M. S., and a member
of Pennsylvania Consistory, A. A. S.
R.; Tancred Commandery; Military
■Order of the World War, and the
''Keystone Athletic Club.
\ He leaves his widow, Mrs. Amelia
I jridges Hogg; a son, Wallace B.
liogrg; a daughter, Mrs. A. S. Her-
riington; two sisters, Mrs. John J.
walker and Miss Agnes E. Hogg, and
t'f/o brothers, George and Charles
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