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History of the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, Virginia Conference

by A. P. Funkhouser

CHAPTER X

REMINISCENCES OF SOME EARLY PREACHERS

In the present chapter we present some reminiscent observations of several of the United Brethren ministers who were in active service between 1800 and 1860. Chief among those writing their recollections, when on "the western slope of the rugged mountain of life," was George W. Statton, who in 1900 was living in Colorado.

The reminiscences below are by John W. Fulkerson.

The Virginia Conference of 1855, held at Mount Hebron, is spoken of as containing forty-three men, present and absent. All were of good preaching ability, sound in doctrine, devotional, zealous, and bold as lions. They sensibly enjoyed the Christian religion themselves, and insisted that all other persons should have a realizing knowledge of the divine power to salvation, if they desire to be sure of heaven at the end of the present life. They felt called upon to take a stand for vital piety, to advocate a pure spirituality, to preach a religion that has in it the power of the Holy Spirit to such an extent that the professor may know he has passed from death unto life. The fathers of the conference had a heavy conflict on their hands, for the formal churches had brains, education, and influence, and thought the United Brethren were fanatics, or fit subjects for a hospital for the insane. These formalists united to squelch the evangelical movement with all the powers they could command, and these were not insignificant.

The affairs of the conferences of the 50's were managed by three strong men: Henry Burtner, Jacob Markwood, and Jacob Bachtel. The measures they originated and advocated were adopted, and what they opposed was sure to fail, no matter by whom it was supported. They were invulnerable, but the conferences were well managed. These men were intellectually ahead of the other members.

They were devotedly attached to one another and to the church.

Burtner was the oldest of the three, and was at this time a retired itinerant, his education being wholly in the German. In 1842 he came to Dayton from Cumberland county, Pennsylvania, and was now living on a fine farm. His preaching, which was mainly in German was of depth and power. He was above the medium height, of commanding appearance, and possessed a fine countenance and a very penetrating eye. Burtner was genial, benevolent, and hospitable. His home was open to all his brother ministers, from the highest to the lowest, and to the membership of the church as well. He was admitted to conference in 1820, and died at Dayton in 1857. A powerful man, he was a factor not to be ignored in the councils of his church. His voice was heard with no uncertain sound in several of the general conferences.

Jacob Markwood stood next in authority, but unlike what was true of Burtner his power and influence did not lie in his business ability. He was a close student, a good thinker, and a great orator. In fluency and in use of beautiful language he was rarely excelled. In his best moments he would carry as by magic, and whithersoever he pleased, the largest and most unruly audience. In his denunciations of the popular evils of the day, he was severe, sarcastic, and emphatic in the extreme, and withal so regardless of the possible consequences to himself, that he would have his audience mad enough to want to hang him. Then, in a few moments and with cyclonic power, he would have his hearers weeping, as though with broken hearts, and some of them screaming for mercy as if the flames of hell were consuming them. In another moment, and as with the speed of the lightning's flash, the power of his eloquence would be turned to the uplifting influence of the gospel, to the abundant blessings of Christianity, and for its supreme enjoyment in this life and the life beyond. The whole audience would soon be in a whirl of glory, and loud hallelujahs would come from every part

of the house. At the dedication of Mount Zion church near the village of Mount Solon, he preached two and one-half hours from the text, "We have come unto Mount Zion." But sometimes Markwood failed and failed badly. He was tender-hearted and often gave his last dollar to the poor. It is told of him that while he was on the road to preside over a conference in Ohio, he overtook an old man, thinly clad, and to all appearance in ill health. Markwood at once got out of his buggy, and walked with the man a short distance, meanwhile putting several questions to him. Then he took off his double-cape overcoat and gave it to the stranger. News of the incident reached the conference, and another warm coat was provided for the bishop.

Jacob Bachtel was in some particulars second to neither of the other men. In personal appearance he was of medium height, well-proportioned, and keen-eyed. His hair was bushy and stood straight up. His fine appearance and commanding address gave him much influence in the camp-meetings and other out-of-door gatherings. He was moral in every sense of the word and strictly conscientious. Bachtel was not a man to be trifled with, for he felt that the life and work of a minister of the gospel is a most important and serious thing. In the pulpit he was plain and practical. He hated every form of sham and handled it without gloves. He was particularly severe on agnosticism, infidelity, and Romanism, and in this direction he was no mean antagonist. Although he stood unflinchingly for what he considered to be the right, he had in his private character the tenderness of a loving Christian mother. He would never go back on a personal friend. In the general conferences he was an influential factor, and as a presiding elder, to which office he was repeatedly elected, he was always helpful to the preachers under his care.

Jacob J. Glossbrenner was a charter member of the Virginia Conference and in many respects a great man. He was tall and slender, with a commanding forehead. His black eyes flashed intelligence. His language was

chaste and correct. In the pulpit he called a spade a spade when dealing with the eternal destiny of immortal souls. Though not deep in his thought, he was popular as a preacher, and the pulpits of other churches were open to him. His themes were of the most exalted character and always dwelt on the bright encouraging side of Christianity and the happy results of Christian living. He appeared to have no taste for dwelling on the sins of wicked men or the corruption of the times. As a bishop he was careful and conservative, his management giving general satisfaction. By his family he was much loved.

William R. Coursey was prominent in the early history of the church in the Shenandoah Valley. He was long an itinerant, and this meant preaching nearly every day, week days as well as Sundays, and on a meager salary. He had a wife and six or seven children. It seems now an impossibility to keep eight or nine persons on an income of $200 a year, yet it was done, and Frederick circuit, which was large and wealthy, allowed it to be endured. There were twenty-six appointments in this circuit, and yet he had few presents, and his assistant, $90 salary and no presents. Neither did Coursey receive anything for his children, although it was left for the quarterly conference to make an additional allowance for the support of the minister's children. Coursey was modest, retiring, and a safe counselor. He was of a good family, a good student, a methodical thinker, one of the most successful of teachers, and was considered a model preacher. He was devotedly pious and strictly religious. He was often a presiding elder and was sent to the general conference.

John Ruebush had but a limited education, yet was active and hard-working, and in many respects a most remarkable preacher. During his ministry, many persons were gathered into the church, and many others were so drawn toward it that they were never able to break away from its influence, and years later came into the fold. The pathos in his voice when he was preaching or sinking was most affecting. The sermons of Ruebush could not be

considered learned, nor was his rhetoric according to the rules; yet he moved whole audiences as the tempest moves the trees of the forest. He was great as a revivalist. A pastoral charge in his care was a very poor place for backsliding, and this happened to but few. He and his co-laborers depended entirely on the earnest preaching of the gospel, the power of spiritual song, the influence of the Holy Spirit, and the gracious assistance of spiritual enthusiastic church members. Revivals then meant something. They meant permanent societies. Ruebush would have scorned the kinks, twists, and stratagems of the average professional revivalist of to-day: To the old United Brethren minister or member, their methods would have been disgusting and would have been deemed a travesty on the Christian religion. Ruebush was the first regular preacher to be sent to the South Branch of the Potomac, and was largely instrumental in establishing the United Brethren Church there. He was sent as a missionary to establish the church in Tennessee. Such an errand meant severe persecution and even jeopardy of life, because of the anti-slavery record of our church. Yet at much financial loss Ruebush faced the dangers and endured the hardships until he had planted the church on that unfavorable soil, where it is still growing and prospering.

Benjamin Stickley was unique. The Virginia Conference never had but one "Uncle Ben," and will never have another. Before conversion it was his special delight to annoy the religious gatherings of Christian people. He would not raise a disturbance himself, but would induce others to do so by bribing them with plenty of whiskey. The more fuss he could make the greater his fun, although he would keep himself out of sight. When he was converted at a camp meeting he had two bottles of whiskey in his pockets. His whiskey was a free treat to his rowdy comrades. He did not sell it to them as camp meeting roughs have done in later years. When Stickley was converted, he was converted through and through. All his chums in wickedness were forsaken. His still was at once

given up. Although he could hardly read his text or his Scripture lesson, he began holding meetings every Sunday, sometimes riding forty miles to reach an appointment and get home. Stickley was poor, he had a large family to support, and as he received nothing from his preaching he had to work hard to keep the wolf from the door. He thus worked several years before he was received into the conference. He was always sent to the mountain circuits, which were large and whose people were poor. He had to travel and preach nearly every day in the year and got little for his work in a pecuniary way. Yet singing and praying he would go away from conference and home, and at the end of the year would report more souls gathered into the church than was true of any of his co-laborers. He had a powerful voice and Bachtel said of one of his sermons that it could almost be heard in hell. Stickley was the first missionary sent across the Alleghanies into the bounds of what is now the Parkersburg Conference. What is now West Virginia was then in great part an uninhabited wilderness. The mission circuit covered three hundred miles, with preaching nearly every day in the year. But a good report was always sure to come, even if there were little money to mention. Stickley was a missionary here at the time the Methodist Episcopal Church split on the slavery question. Excitement was up to the danger point. One day while he was passing the office of a leading lawyer of the town of Weston, the lawyer called him in, saying: "I want to talk with you. Be seated," Stickley asked what was wanted. "There is great excitement on slavery between the North and the South," was the reply. "The great Methodist Church has split, the nation is also going to divide, and it is all important that every citizen take his stand and show his colors. We all want to know which way you are going." Stickley responded with one of his most pleasant smiles, naming the ends of his mission field: "I go up here north as far as the town of Fetterman, and south as far as Steer Creek. If you and your niggers don't get religion, you will all go to hell to-

gether." The lawyer had nothing further to say. Stickley was known to be an uncompromising Union man. When the civil war broke out and the Southern feeling became intensely bitter, Stickley was thrown as a traitor into a filthy prison. He soon became broken-hearted and his glorious manhood was squelched. When liberated, he sacrificed his farm and other property, left the home and friends of a lifetime, and migrated to Iowa, where in no long time he died, never recovering his former spirit and ambition. After preaching a sermon at Washington, Iowa, and asking the people to sing a hymn, he died in the pulpit. In 1847 George Hoffman was still a local preacher, though still an elderly man. He was the senior member and had traveled a circuit before the old conference was divided. He did not now go home and do nothing, but regularly attended the quarterlies and the annual conferences, preaching whenever asked. For some years he was the conference book agent, serving without a salary and getting only a small commission on his sales. He thus made himself a most useful man and was much a factor in shaping the policies of the church. Hoffman had little education and was not a great preacher, yet he had great influence, having the faculty of impressing himself and his opinions most powerfully on both ministers and laity. He had very decided convictions as to what was right in the affairs of the church, and he had the backbone to stand up to his convictions. Splendid common sense and a great fund of practical knowledge were his, both in worldly matters and the affairs of the church. Hoffman was a very helpful associate, and the ruling authorities of the church called him much into their councils. He was also most companionable, being a fine talker, full of anecdote and thrilling incident connected with his long and useful life, and he had the happy faculty of relating these things in an interesting way. Many was the time, when the writer of these reminiscences would go to Hoffman's house, and work hard all day, perhaps cutting and hauling in firewood, so that the old gentleman might go with him to his

quarterly meetings in and across the mountains. For Hoffman was acquainted with every path and every home, and was loved and respected by all the mountain people.

The same writer gives a personal incident. At a conference session in March, 1850, the only daughter of Jacob Funkhouser, an interesting young lady, seventeen years of age, came into church in the afternoon, this being the first time she attended conference in day time. The pews faced the doors, and by looking straight ahead, one could see every one coming into the church. The writer looked, saw, and was conquered. By the time she had reached her seat, he had decided she was the ideal of the woman he wanted. He had not been thinking of marrying for at least five years, and in his case there were good reasons why marriage should be delayed. But in looking at Miss Funkhouser, the matter was settled at once. She and her family were perfect strangers, yet he made up his mind to marry her very soon if it were all right with her. He had been traveling a circuit three years, had been over the whole conference district, and had become acquainted with hundreds of interesting young ladies, many of them suitable for becoming the wives of preachers. Yet not one of them had appealed to him as a wife. There was now the purpose to marry as soon as he could. But it took months of the most assiduous courting before the wish was accomplished. The Funkhousers were Lutherans. A young Lutheran minister wanted her as much as he did, and prosecuted his suit with all the power that was in him. Devotion, perseverance, and ardent love won a triumph, and the marriage was solemnized by Jacob Markwood. Yet the couple were permitted to walk together only fourteen months.

About this time the narrator was assigned to Winchester circuit, which included twenty-nine appointments scattered over the counties of Frederick, Morgan, Berkeley, Clarke, and Warren. His colleague was John E. Perry, a most unpromising candidate, who had a hard time getting into conference, although it turned out there was no mis-

UNITED BRETHREN

take in admitting him. Each of the two men made a round every five weeks, meeting twice in every round at the house of Isaac Stanholtz, not far from the Morgan line. There they spent one night together, the preaching being alternately by the two men. The narrator's revival meeting at the Quaker meeting house near Anthony Funkhouser's resulted in about eighty conversions and three new church buildings; United Brethren, Lutheran, and Reformed. As preacher-in-charge, he gave a sermon one Sunday morning at the meeting at Green Spring. The large building was well filled, both floor and gallery, with intelligent, well-to-do people. The narrator was thought to be much the better preacher, and used for his text, "Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, all is vanity." But the sermon was a most wretched failure and very mortifying to the preacher as well as to all the friends of the church. Jacob Hott invited him to dinner, as was his custom, his home being open to all the preachers. Hott was a most excellent judge of preaching and one of the greatest "Scriptorians" the writer ever knew. When about halfway home he looked toward the preachers and said in a laughing manner, "Brother Statton, it was vanity of vanities all the way through and nothing but vanity. Why did you not take a text that had something in it? Then you could have preached a sermon that we would not be ashamed of." The good dinner was not enjoyed by a certain one of the guests. At night Perry preached to another crowded house a sermon that was excellent, considering that at that time he was inexperienced, and uncouth and awkward in address. This time he won the laurels and carried them away in glorious triumph. On this circuit Statton's salary was $140, his colleague's $100. Yet they lived on what they received and were happy. Perry was a devout Christian, lived an honored life, and died in old age at Philadelphia. Before his conversion George B. Rimel was a hardworking farmer, and afterward he still labored with his hands a good deal. He was without human polish and destitute of the learning of the schools, and from a human

viewpoint was a most unpromising candidate for the ministry. Yet he had a strong mind and was unquestionably called to preach the gospel. He was powerful in prayer and clear and pointed in his application of Bible truth to the conscience. Churches sometimes err in calling men into church work, but God never does. The work Rimel performed could not have been done by anyone else. He was forceful and his style of preaching was much needed in the early history of the conference. He was its Boanerges. He gave sledgehammer blows at sin without fear of the consequences, for there was no fear in him. During a revival in Harbaugh's Valley, Maryland, his speech was so plain and hard that the people were greatly offended. Some half dozen men made an attack on him as he was going home from meeting. "Boys," said he, "let me alone. Don't touch me. If you do, I will straighten my arm on you that the Lord has given me with which to defend myself, and you will think a horse has kicked you. I don't want to hurt you." There was no further trouble in that neighborhood. At another time, while on his way to Brock's Gap, Rimel lodged with Andrew Horn, a prominent member near Turleytown. There was a union church in his neighborhood, and it was a moderately good building for those days. Horn was asked why it was not used, and was told that every preacher had been run off by rowdies, this element having sworn there should be no more preaching in Turleytown. Rimel asked Horn to circulate an appointment, an evening in the following week, and he would preach on his return from the Gap. Horn at length consented, and there was a large congregation. The services began in the regular way, and until the middle of the sermon the house was quiet. Then a disturbance arose in the farther end of the room. In a gentlemanly way Rimel asked the toughs to behave themselves. This only made matters worse. Then the preacher paused in his discourse, and asked if some person would give him the names of the disturbers. The rowdies bawled out their own names, and these were written down by Rimel. "To-morrow,"

said he, "I shall see the proper officers of the law, and have you arrested and presented for your unruly conduct here to-night." There was quiet during the remainder of the services and another appointment was made. In the morning Rimel had to pass through the town, where a crowd of furious men were awaiting him. The leader of the gang caught the preacher's horse by the bridle and demanded that the paper containing the names be given up. Rimel refused and the bully then attempted to pull him off the horse. "Hold on," said Rimel, "I can get off myself." As he dismounted he slipped off his overcoat, and then made the following announcement: "I am not afraid of all the people in Turleytown, and I can whip them all if they will fight fair. I can whip the whole pack of you. I shall only need to get in one or two licks on a man, and every man I hit will never know what hurt him." He then made a pass at the rowdy captain, who at once showed the white feather and ran. Rimel remounted, but had gone only a little way when some one shouted for him to stop. The preacher turned about. The spokesman said the men were sorry for what they had done, and if the matter were dropped, they would be his friends and protect him in his meetings, for they much admired a brave man. There were no more interruptions and Turleytown became a reformed place.

The Virginia, Maryland, and Parkersburg conferences were all one in 1848, and included only seven circuits: Frederick, Hagerstown, Winchester, Woodstock, Rockingham, Augusta, and South Branch. Frederick included all of Frederick (in Maryland), Carroll, parts of Baltimore and Montgomery, and some territory in Virginia (Loudoun?). It was a four weeks circuit. Now (1899) there are seven charges: Frederick station, Frederick circuit, Meyersville, Mechanicstown, Keys, Littletown, and Manchester. Hagerstown circuit covered all Washington and parts of Alleghany and Berkeley. In this territory are now Hagerstown station, Middleburg, Williamsport, Roonsboro, Keedysville, Berkeley, and Martinsburg station. Win-

Chester circuit included all of Frederick and Morgan, and parts of Warren, Berkeley, and Jefferson. In 1849 it was a five weeks circuit with thirty-two appointments. Woodstock circuit included all of Shenandoah and took in the Lost River country, the fathers preaching at many places not now occupied by the United Brethren. Rockingham circuit look in all Rockingham, including the Brock's Gap region. Augusta circuit was a trip of one hundred miles, covering all of Augusta and Rockbridge, the Pastures, and part of Highland. But the Presbyterian Church was too well planted in most of this territory for our denomination to gain much foothold. The South Branch circuit covered Hampshire, Hardy, Grant, Mineral, and a part of Pendleton. Traveling one of these circuits meant something: self-denial, hardship, living from home all the year, the great danger from crossing swollen streams, and the machinations of men who thought it a great thing if they could get the better of a preacher of the United Brethren and Methodist churches.

In early days South Branch circuit was called "the College." When a preacher found himself assigned to this field it went very hard to think of going there. But his comrades would come to his rescue, saying he must go to "the College" willingly or he could not be graduated into the itinerancy as a permanent member. So he would always go, but with a wry face and thoughts very emphatic in their meaning. One of these men was Albert Day, himself a native of the North Fork valley, and there converted. His first year's salary was $50, yet many years afterward he wrote that it was his "firm conviction that no young man is fit for the ministry who would refuse to work for $50 during his first year and the good that he could accomplish."

Writing from Minnesota in 1900, John W. Fulkerson wonders if the walnuts and locusts in front of his childhood home are now mammoth trees, the spring a lake, the hills mountains, the narrow valleys great plains, the sheep-nose and damson trees scattered to the winds. He was

received into conference in 1843. The preachers of that period were sterling men, competent, industrious, and economical. Ministerial support was meager and called for economy in the home. Fulkerson was first sent to "the College," which he found "marvelous in extent, but the scenery sublime, the air balmy and bracing." The twenty-four appointments paid $64.40, but Selim, the dapple riding horse, made the salary go far enough. The moral atmosphere for producing ministerial life was strong in Pendleton and Frederick. In his soliloquy on what "some of our college-padded preachers of to-day would do with such a charge," Mr. Fulkerson observes that "simplicity of dress with both men and women has always been an admonition with me. If the greedy, unnecessary expenses of the Christian Church in dress, living, and house furnishing were wisely applied to the building of church houses and missionary effort, the world would soon be brought to God." United Brethren services were then being transferred from the German to the English. The Virginia Conference was having four stubborn difficulties to deal with. The German speech was giving way to the English. The church could hold the parents, but the children were passing out of its control. George Hildt, a strong representative preacher, had four sons preaching in other denominations. Another was too long a delay in opening church schools. A third was slavery. Many good, honest slaveholders attending the services of the church approved its doctrines and methods. Yet they did not see their way to become members because they sometimes became owners of slaves not from choice, but by legacy or marriage. The last cases of slavery in the United Brethren Church were disposed of in 1851. A fourth cause was secrecy, which turned away hundreds. Fulkerson, however, mentions a fifth, when he remarks that a false attitude on church support is hard to correct. He preached one full year where one member of his flock was said to be worth $80,000. At the end of the year this man handed him a dollar. The preacher looked at the munificent gift with astonishment.

"Do not be startled," remarked the money-grubber, "I have heard better preaching than you gave,— (referring to the fathers), and it did not cost me a cent."

Before any of the Statton family joined the United Brethren, they called the sect fanatical, because they had been reared in the blue-stocking idea that all religious meetings must be conducted in decency and order. When Rimel was presiding elder the Brethren had a camp-meeting at Culp's old ground. J. F. Statton attended, more through curiosity than anything else. He was then a young man of twenty-four and had taught several years in his home neighborhood. At the Sunday night service Rimel preached in German, giving sinners such sledgehammer blows that Statton was pounded into unconsciousness. When he came to himself he found himself at the mourner's bench, a place he had despised above any other, not excepting the saloon. Before the altar service closed, Statton was most powerfully converted, and he never got over the shouting proclivity he then acquired. The Statton family had a tender recollection of the names of George B. Rimel, John Ruebush, and John Fulkerson. It was the devout prayer of J. F. Statton that the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Pentecostal showers might return to the church in all her revivals. "Some of the old fellows are getting awfully tired of the machinery revivals of the professional evangelist."

Andrew J. Haney entered the conference in 1831. He opened the mission between Knobby Hills and the South Branch. Hershey, Markwood, Ruebush, and Fulkerson followed consecutively. "The College" was healthy, happy, romantic, the picturesque scenery adding enchantment to the toil. 1845 was a good year on South Branch, and the good effects were to be seen many years later. An aged man dying of cancer asked Fulkerson to preach his funeral sermon. A day was appointed, the whole country around gathered, and the preacher talked to them and the sick man from Isaiah XLVI, 4. The man died within the month. This was the first and last time he conducted a funeral

service for a person still living. Haney changed his preaching from German to English, and though it was a "kind of mixture," he was still very successful. He made it a point to look after the young and to interest them in church activities. His first home as a preacher was with Abraham Funkhouser, whose two children were taught in English and this compelled him to converse with them in the same language. He visited about one hundred families this year. He rode up to Benjamin Stickley's place and asked him if he would keep a preacher. "Yes, and his horse too," was the response. Haney praised the purity of the water and though he did not say so, he thought it ran into a very filthy place. As they turned away from the spring, he told Stickley he knew of a purer fountain. The distiller understood the allusion and said Haney must preach here. Stickley sent out his children to solicit an audience and fixed seats under the sugar trees near the stillhouse. It was after this that Stickley became a Christian and tore out his still. Both Haney and Hershey held meetings at his house and a number were there converted. Stickley told others that after Haney preached his first sermon at his place he could make no more whiskey, and that what he had in his barrels leaked out.

George E. Deneal was "smart and sharp as a tack," but once found his equal. He was preaching on a week-day in a private home and few people were present. At the end of the sermon the preacher asked all who wanted to go to heaven to rise to their feet. All stood except Mr. Slimholt. Deneal then asked all who wished to go to hell to stand. Slimholt remained seated. The minister was non-plussed. "You are a strange man. You neither want to go to heaven or hell. Where do you want to go?" "When I am regularly dismissed, I want to go home," was the man's reply.

J. Zahn was a good musician and companionable. He was poor, settled down, and got married. In driving up to a hotel in Romney he thus addressed the negro porter: "Monsieur, seize this quadruped by its government,.

extricate it from the vehicle, arrange it in a separate department, polish it with care, give provender according to debility of its body, and at even I will compensate your master." The white in the darky's eyes enlarged, his teeth shone, and he made this remark to the proprietor, who was inside the hotel office: "Come out, here is a Frenchman talking Greek." After supper the negro turned the tables on Zahn by a demonstration of his powers as a singer.

The following pithy characterization has been made as to certain of the early preachers:

Baer was thoughtful and watchful; Shuey was liberal and generous; Spessard was feminine and modest; Bachtel was fearless and independent; Tobey was critical and well informed; Miles was handsome and animated; Brashear was a sermon memorizer; Hires was a noble singer and strong revivalist; Knott was a giant in exhortation, an exercise that usually followed a sermon; Rhinehart was of fine physique, powerful voice, unusual preaching talent, and tremendous energy in exhortation.

"William R. Rhinehart was a tall, stately man, attractive and commanding, a good scribe, a fine singer, a composer and compiler of music, a good organizer, with aggressive spirit and was an incessant worker. At times he lacked in the use and application of means to the end he had in view. He was somewhat learned but not finished. At times he could produce dashes of fine taste and create drafts of statement with forcible simplicity and general admiration. Some of his pulpit 'fine sayings' would occasionally turn a somersault, and hastily plunge into a comic anecdote or illustration bringing his attitude and system of thought to grate on the minds of the fastidious. Rhine-hart's range of thought and influence as an advocate, filled an extensive sphere in the church. In his palmiest days he was a power at camp and quarterly meetings. His silver eloquence, strung upon the golden thread of the gospel, would sparkle like diamonds before the minds of his audience and attract a whole camp meeting. He was

an advanced reformer, first in journalism, first in temperance work, first in the missionary enterprises, a leader in sabbath school work and pleaded for a better support of the ministry. He lived and died leaving a fragrant name in the church.

Geo. B. Rimel possessed a fine physique,—healthy, ruddy, beef-eating appearance,—a notably handsome person. His preaching did not consist in pompous phrases or brilliant expressions, but terse, good sense and originality. His mind moved like a timber wagon loaded with Bible facts. The lion-hearted Rimel did some good subsoil plowing in the Valley of Virginia, and is still remembered kindly by the people; for with his masculine impassioned exhortation he could move the people to tears. Rimel's individuality was prominent. Strong and reliant, he held the truth of his own convictions fast in the face of all opposition.

Joseph M. Hershey in youth was a sizeable man, possessed emotional emulation. He was bred and born under the influence of the church, and was decidedly churchly in his feelings. In dress he was becomingly costumed, in manners quiet and dignified, occasionally almost cold and indifferent, yet domestic in disposition and loved home and surroundings. As a preacher he was not a brilliant explorer of the deep things of God, but adorned his efforts with the force of common sense and aimed at compactness with some degree of style. The last days of his life were somewhat foggy, made so by influences over which he had no control, still we believe he lives with Jesus.

William R. Coursey was a large man with soft blue eyes, reticent in his social relations to a fault, but conversed agreeably on all subjects when you could interest him. His preaching was on the conversational line. He reasoned softly, tenderly and eloquently, without enthusiasm on his part or exciting violent emotions in his hearers, but pressed the truth to the judgment by solid facts founded upon nature and good sense, creating in the mind

the sensation of peace and repose. Coursey was one of the best educated men of his day, and possessed a sweet disposition. By his moral rectitude and careful habits he had educated his conscience to be his prompter, which made him one of the purest and brightest ornaments of the church in his time. He lived and died with the 13th chapter of First Cor. for his motto. Glossbrenner addressed the head to reform the life. Hershey aimed at the imagination to produce a quickening, Coursey labored to reach the understanding, that his people might be instructed in the way of right living.

John Haney was born April 10, 1807; was raised a German Reformed; was a member of that church when he began to preach in 1829; joined the Pennsylvania conference in 1830, the Virginia conference in 1831. First circuit in Virginia, required six weeks and about 400 miles travel; second year, Haney, Coursey, Glossbrenner and Hershey travelled together; the third year was made presiding elder and was engaged in extending the work; followed Peter Hott and others into Hardy county and opened the work there. Hershey followed him on that charge. Sometimes he had thirty appointments. He said in an experience at the Minnesota conference in 1895, "These were the happiest days of my life. I had nothing to do but to gather in the lost sheep of the house of Israel." "I am a rough man, but the roughest part is on the outside. I speak my mind right out: but I never allowed my wrath to see the sun go down. Now my work is done. I have made preparations to leave. I have been much alone— only the Telescope. Oh, bless the Telescope. God bless you all. I shall not see you again."

He never needed to use glasses in reading and writing.

Frederick Hisey died in Edinburg, Va., June 26. 1862, aged about 71 years. In the midst of the confusion of war times he was buried in haste and without a funeral sermon. He was a member of the Virginia conference, always a local preacher, for about 25 years. He was an excellent blacksmith and worked at his trade on the main street in

the centre of the village. His home was the preacher's home. He was of the strictest integrity and his conversation was always turned to the religious. He reproved, warned and expounded the Scriptures on the street, at the shop, and in the social circle, to saint and sinner alike. He died triumphant, endeavoring to sing, "A charge to keep I have, A God to glorify."



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