Thirty Years in the Itinerancy

Outfit minus the Horse and Saddlebags.--Receives Instruction.--The Final Struggle.--Arrives at Brothertown.--Reminiscence

ence, found me at Waupun. The intervening nine months, since our arrival in the preceding July, had been spent in mak

my hand, inwardly saying, "Hast thou found me, oh! mine enemy?" No rash answer, however, was given. This question of duty was certainly assuming grave aspects. For four years it had haunted me at every turn. And even in the wilds of Wisconsin it was still my tormenter. Like Banquo's ghost, it would not down at my bidding. I now tried to look the question fairly in the face, and make the decision a final one, but found it exceedingly difficult to do so. To yield after so long a stru

tened to make the necessary preparations for my new responsibilities. The outfit was provokingly limited. The horse and saddlebags, the inevitable Alpha, if not the Omega, of an Itinerant's outfit, were wanting, as such conveniences had hardly, as yet, found the

s, one after another, were dismissed, was not the most favorable introduction to my "new departure," but, bad as it was, I found relief in the thought that my Eastern friends, who had so kindly and repeatedly proposed to give me a comfortable seat somewhere

d, however, from both the elder and his good wife, I felt embarrassed by the searching look they occasionally gave me.

ssion. The elder replied, "Necessity knows no law, and, besides, our Quarterly Meeting at this place will soon be held, when we will relieve that embarrassment." I was doubtless indebted to this law of necessity for the privilege of holding one office in

d impassable. In the deep shade of the wood I found a moss-covered rock for a seat, and gave myself up to reflection. The troubled currents of the stream ran on this wise. To go forward in my present undertaking may involve a committal to a work that a few short months shall not terminate. In such case, there will follow a life of toil and sacrifice, on stinted allowance, beset with trials and perplexities, and clouded by cold unfeeling criticisms, censures and misjudgings, of both motive and labor, of which I can now entertain no adequate conception. But if this work be not the dictate of duty, then why this unrest of soul

It was now nearly twelve o'clock. I was invited to the parlor where I awaited dinner. These few moments afforded an opportunity to survey my surroundings and master the situation. My early reading had introduced me to the Indian, both in his native wilds and as seen on the borders of civilization, the former as the noblest specimen

n occasional glance I tried to read the thoughts of the reader, but found that the dark face was not disposed to be communicative. This much, howeve

tions of race and color had faded out of sight, and a life-long friendship was founded. It was n

ocation along the eastern shore of Lake Winnebago was excellent, affording a good soil and water and timber in abundance. Along the principal highways the farms had been cleared of

been added as a regular appointment. The following year, 1841, the charge remained the same, but the name was changed to Brothertown, this name having taken the place of Deansbur

nth, he was appointed second preacher to Aztalan Mission. Here he took his first lessons in pioneer work. He traveled over a tract of country reaching from the line of the Territory on the south to Menomonee on

on, as will appear in another chapter. He remained on this charge only three months, and was then sent by his Presiding Elder, Rev. Julius Field, to supply Oneida Indian Mission for the balance of the year, that charge having been left to be supplied. In January he w

forest he made twenty miles the first day, but during the afternoon found himself in a severe snow storm. The first night he stopped at a house located at the site of the present village of Grafton. On rising the next morning he found the snow three feet deep. He laid over one day, and on the following morning resumed his journey. He only made nine miles, as he was compelled to beat the track in advance of his horse; and at night he found quarters at Port Washington. The next day he pursued his jou

heboygan Falls, and the seventh day Manitowoc. The eighth day he tried to reach Green Bay, a distance of fo

and after traveling twenty-five miles found himself on the bank of Fox River. He found no way to cross the stream, and, it being now dark, he was compelled to spend the night without shelter. A friendly Indian came along and joined him in his preparatio

the name was changed to Brothertown. This year was also fragrant with blessing, and many souls were converted. After leaving Brothertown Brother Halstead was stationed at Monroe, and next at Hazel Gr

of the labors, the sacrifices and trials of such men, but little can be known here. It is a satisfaction, however, to be assured that their record is on high. It is also a pleasure to know with what views they look back upon the past. A line in hand from Brother Halstead only expresses the common sentiment o

ted his third year when called away. Brother Frink is also a veteran, havi

and Green Bay, and extending west as far as Lake Winnebago. Its principal appoi

in cup, blankets and provisions. The only road was an Indian trail, which pushed its devious way through the forest, around the swamps, and across bridgeless streams, without regard to the comfort of the traveler or the speed of his locomotion. As there were no houses alo

pious rains of summer, he was compelled to traverse the dreary, and almost unbroken forests of his field, and on more than one occasion he found the night around his

e last named, we shall have occasion to refer to his labors in a subsequent chapter. At the close of his

Wisconsin, and, as before stated, appointed to Brothertown. At the Conference of 1845, he took a location

1865, he took a supernumerary relation, but the following year, being made effective, he was appointed to the Bible Agency, which position he has continued to hold up to the