Chapter 8

THE OLD MEETING HOUSE
AND THE OLD PREACHERS

The manners and custom of the people change as generations succeed each other on the chess board of time. The subject of this chapter carries us only a little over half century backward on time's rapd moving tide. And yet the changes are so marked and distinct that we can not fully conceive their wonderful effect in the unlimited progress of the human race that fifty years have wrought.

The community at that time was composed almost exclusively of farmers. They depended on the production of the soil and the sale of butter and eggs for their living. I had almost forgot to speak of the apple crop. It may seem unreasonalbe when I tell you that fifty years ago apples were far more abundant that they are in 1904.

There was, however, no market except for dried apples, and they were so cheap that it did not pay. The insects, spores and blights that ruin orchards of the present day were unknown in the period of which I write. True, there were many seedings, but there were also Romanite, Rambo, Jenets, Hoops, Big Reds and others that were produced so abundantly that the garners in the cellars and the old-fashioned apple houses were filled and all through the winter and until corn planting time it was an apple feast. The house wife always prepaed preserves, jelly, apple butter and apple molasses that lasted from year to year. Farming, as I said, was the profession. Many of these farmers did their ploughing with one horse. Carriages and buggies and even market wagons were only beginning their advent. They went to mill on horse back, and often walked to market. They hauled their wood and rails on sleds. Many went to church barefooted, and the women wore their sun bonnets.

The heavy forest timber that covered all this region was rapidly falling before the woodman's ax, and every spring there were many log rollings. At night the hills and valleys were illuminated by burning brush piles and log heaps. The people loved to help each other, and when a farmer got his clearing ready for log rolling, the whole region round about cheerully responded to the call to help roll logs. These gatherings were made enjoyable by social converse. The good house wives vied with each other in getting a good dinner for the log rollers.

Hewed log houses were just taking the place of the settler's log cabin. These dwellings were homes of comfort. The walls were nicely hewed and dovetailed at the corners, and the cracks were filled with mortar and some of the more fashionable whitewashed the cracks with lime. These homes were warmed with wood fires in the wide fireplaces. At night the gleam of the blazing fire and the light of the lard lamp or the tallow candle made them cheerful.

To these people this was "Home, sweet home." One of these sweet homes was mine, an humble log house, but dear to memory. There I commenced the battle of life. There two of my chilldren were born, and there in contentment I spent the early years of married life. But I commence this chapter in order to speak of the old meeting house. You begin to wonder whether these busy people ever thought of God or a house of worship. these people, like ourselves, depended on God for seed time and harvest.

On a hilltop about a mile from my dwelling stood the old meeting house. This house was the property of the Regular Baptist church. Once each month the people assembled at this place for worship. The house was a frame, and at that time was almost new. The native forest covered the spot in all their original thrift, except a small spot that had benn cleared for the burial place of their dead. The two leading preachers of the denomination lived in the neighborhood, and did most of the preaching. they were Rev. Nathan Pinnick and Rev. Thomas Winters. They were good men and true.

The obeyed the Master's injunction: "He that would be greatest among you, let him be your servant." Uncle Tommy Winters, as he was familiarly called, lived near the meeting house. In winter time, on Saturday preceding preaching day, he carried his ax with him to the business metting, and assisted in chopping wood for Sunday. The faithful ministers refused all compensation for their service. Their idea of a free gospel was that it must be preached without money and without price. They rendered their service free, not only at the old meeting house, but traveled many weary miles on horseback to carry the message to others in distant part of the county.

The labors of these two faithful men terminated many years ago. Their mortal remains were carried with loving hands and laid to rest in the little cemetery at the "Old Baptist Meeting House". The old house is fast falling to decay. The denomination they faithfully represented has been eclipsed by other branches of the Protestant Church.

New kinds of people, new kinds of preachers, new kinds of doctrines flourish in the regions once so enchated with their voices. Church names may change or be lost in the flight of years, but the truth of God will live forever.