Thirty Years in the Itinerancy. W. G. Miller
the proceeding would not be considered irregular, to place an exhorter in charge of the Mission. 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 the church not provided for in the Discipline, and one that has seldom if ever been accorded to others. Carefully instructed in the best method to manage certain difficulties pending in the Mission, I took early leave for a further walk of sixteen miles.
Across the prairie at the head of Lake Winnebago, I found the walk very agreeable. Passing Taycheedah, I then struck out into the deep woods that skirt the eastern shore of the lake. I was now between my guide and instructor, and the difficult work committed to my charge. Thought was busy. An oppressive sense of my own insufficiency for so momentous a work, came over me, as it had done before, but never in such overwhelming power. I was now face to face with the great work from which I had shrank for several years, and there was no retreat. Imagination lifted the little hills of difficulty before me into mountains that seemed 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 which has so long disturbed the even flow of my religious life, or why the uniform urgency of the authorities of the church both east and west in this direction? On the contrary, if my feet are now in the path of duty then why hesitate? A brave soul never falters in the presence of difficulty or peril, but always deals the strongest blows where the conflict rages the sharpest. The struggle was brief and the result satisfactory. Kneeling by the side of the rock, prayer was offered for Divine guidance and help, and there fell on the soul a baptism of serene peace and holy joy, which hallowed each remaining step of the journey.
Arriving at Brothertown the letter of introduction from the Elder was presented to A.D. Dick, Esq., one of the Stewards. The residence of this brother was located in the central portion of the town, and gave evidence of good taste and comfort. Both himself and wife were members of the church, and their house the home of Itinerants. 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 of the natural man on the planet, and the latter as the most degraded of mortals. But now I was in the very presence of the red man and even a guest in his dwelling. Nor is it too much to say that my curiosity was not a little excited. My reception, however, had been so cordial that I soon found myself at ease in my new associations.
The letter was opened and read. During its reading I noticed that the eye of mine host often wandered from the page to the newly arrived guest. By an 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, however, I think I read pretty clearly: "Well, the Elder has sent us a pretty slender specimen as a minister, but we will try him and see what he can do."
The dinner was announced, conversation became lively, and before we were aware of it the distinctions of race and color had faded out of sight, and a life-long friendship was founded. It was now arranged that, during my stay on the Mission, I should make my home under this hospitable roof.
The Brothertown people came from the State of New York, and had now been settled in their western home several years. A log chapel had been erected and school houses provided. The location 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 timber and brought under a fair state of cultivation. The buildings were mainly constructed of logs, though in later years, there had been erected a goodly number of frame residences.
Brothertown Mission first appears on the General Minutes in 1839, under the name of Deansburg, as will appear hereafter. In 1840 it was called Fond du Lac, as that point had now 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 Deansburg, in honor of the Brothertown Nation. But as this charge will further appear in connection with the labors of its pastors I will defer the balance of the record for the present.
Rev. Jesse Halstead entered the traveling connection in the Troy Conference, was ordained Deacon in September, 1837, and transferred to the Illinois Conference. At the session of the Conference, held the same month, 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 the north, and from the Lake Shore Missions on the east to Madison on the west. In these extended journeys he enjoyed the privilege of preaching the first sermon and forming the first societies in many localities.
In 1838 he was sent to Crete Mission on the Kankakee, in the State of Illinois. The following year, 1839, he was sent to Brothertown, as before stated, the name on the Minutes being Deansburg. While on this Mission, he visited Fond du Lac, and preached the first sermon, 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 was visited at Oneida by the Presiding Elder. While here the Elder fell sick, and desired Brother Halstead to accompany him on his round of appointments. In the line of travel they visited Madison and intervening charges, and then went to Racine, the home of the Elder.
Brother Halstead now started for his field at Oneida. It was in the depth of winter, and the line of travel was through the dense forests along the Lake Shore to Green Bay. But, nothing daunted, our Itinerant packed his books, which had been left with Brother Stebbins at this place on his first trip to the north, and other baggage, and started on his journey. The first day he reached Milwaukee, and here he laid in provisions and other necessary outfit, such as axe, auger, &c. Striking out into the 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 journey, but at nightfall found himself without shelter in the woods. He built a fire, cooked a piece of salt pork to eat with his bread, and made a supper. But now for the night! He emptied his jumper, and in it he made a bed, and, as nearly as possible, a coil of humanity. The next morning he found his boots frozen. But, with a generous amount of tugging, they yielded to the pressure of his feet, and he was again on his way, breaking the roads himself, thereby aiding his horse in carrying his burden.
On the fifth day he found a house in the woods and remained in it for the night. The sixth day he reached Sheboygan Falls, and the seventh day Manitowoc. The eighth day he tried to reach Green Bay, a distance of forty miles, but was compelled to camp out for another night, and take the ninth day to complete his journey.
In 1840, Brother Halstead was sent to Fond du Lac, his charge including, also, Brothertown, of which a record will be made in a subsequent chapter. During this year he made a visit to Oshkosh. He took an Indian trail on the west side of Lake Winnebago, 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 preparations for the night. The weather was quite cold and they were obliged to maintain a brisk fire to keep from freezing. In this duty they served by turns, but neither of them had any provisions. On the following day Brother, Halstead returned to Fond du Lac.
During the year Brother Halstead was abundant in labor,