tion of receiving members baptized by other denominations came up, and such had been the influx of Baptist ministers and members from the east that that question was overruled in opposition to the rule in the constitution of the association, and since that time the question has not been raised at the organization of any church where I have been present. A Baptist church of West Pontiac was organized in the winter of 1834. A Baptist conference at Walled Lake called a council to recognize them as a Baptist church in gospel order, in February, 1834. This was mostly a colony from Farmington church. In October, 1836, a council was called to sit with the church of Oakland to examine and ordain Brother A. W. Button. He was ordained and for years labored in that vicinity. In the spring of 1887 a council was called by the Walled Lake church to ordain Brother Geo. Pennell to the gospel ministry. The brethren at Shashaba were organized into a church, not far from this time, and Brother John Martin was examined and ordained by the same council. In April or May, 1837, a council was called to recognize the Baptist church in Hartland. The church was recognized and my brother Aroswell, since fallen asleep, was for several years their beloved pastor. But my time is elapsed. In reviewing the past 50 years, in view of the moral and religious changes that have taken place in connection with our denomination, as well as in the physical world, what reason have we to exclaim: What hath God wrought? From the little band that first gathered at Pontiac, before the war-whoop of the Indian brave had scarce died to an echo, how has the little one become a thousand and the small one a strong nation! Our Michigan, which at that time was dressed in the robes of its native wilds, and still was the hunting ground of the red man, has not only been made to bud and blossom like the rose, but while the wild uncultivated wastes have been turned to cultivated fields which produce almost every necessary, not to say luxury, to satisfy the physical wants of man, the means of supplying his moral and spiritual wants have been wonderfully multiplied. Well do we remember the log cabins which afforded our shelter, and our sanctuary as well, where amid the untamed wilds we first bowed the knee, and renewed our allegiance to our God and consecrated our lives to His service. With melancholy pleasure we remember the joy which we derived in our wilderness homes from the society of beloved brethren and sisters who had bid adieu to the privileges and luxuries of an old country to hazard the hardships and dangers of a new. What joyful seasons we realized when, in order to enjoy Christian privileges, sisters would travel on foot six or seven miles, sometimes with a babe in their arms, not on sidewalks, but upon the rough earth, by marked trees, and then meet together in a log school-house, or some brother's cabin to listen to the Word and enjoy again the ordinances of the Christian church. But now the scene changed; instead of the log cabins for dwellings or school-houses, in almost every town and hamlet there are convenient dwellings, and the towering spire arises from convenient, and in many cases, magnificent temples dedicated to the service of the true God, accompanied by temples of science dedicated to the welfare of the rising generation, while the band which first conscrated themselves to the service of God and to the salvation of man at Pontiac, has multiplied its twenties a thousand fold. Here, my brethren, we will raise our Ebenezer, and inscribe upon it "hitherto the Lord hath helped us." AMEN.

A PIONEER MINISTER.

SKETCH READ BY REV. SUPPLY CHASE, BEFORE THE DETROIT PIONEER SOCIETY APRIL 21, 1873.

The writer was commissioned in February, 1836, by the American Baptist Home Mission Society as missionary to preach the gospel in Michigan, then a territory.

His field of labor was Pontiac and vicinity. Being anxious to arrive on the field at as early a day as possible, he, with his wife and infant daughter left their home in Onondaga county, N. Y., on the 24th day of April, in a buggy, and after six days' travel, found themselves in Buffalo. This was before the days of railroads, and as the Erie canal would not be open for several weeks, travel by land was the only alternative. The remainder of his family, consisting of two small sons, was left behind. The winter of 1835-6 was one of unusual severity. Although it was the last week in April, the snow drifts were in places from three to six feet deep, and traveling very difficult. At Buffalo, horse, buggy, missionary, wife, and child were shipped on board the steamer United States for Detroit, with many other emigrants, April 30, 1836, and landed at Detroit on the morning of May 2.

These were the glorious days of steamboating, when Wilkins, Blake, and others trod the deck with all the pride and dignity of men to whom was committed almost a nation's destinies.

The United States was the first boat that left the port of Buffalo that season, and Lake Erie, for 15 or 20 miles, was nearly covered with masses of floating ice, making navigation difficult.

THE HOTELS.

These were the palmy days, also, of hotel runners, as we found when the boat made her landing at the foot of Woodward Avenue. The confusion of tongues was like that of Babel. Cries of "American," "Mansion House," "Eagle Hotel," "Cottage Hotel," "New York and Ohio House," etc., etc., made "confusion worse confounded." To one unused to such proceedings, as was the writer, and a stranger also, it was simply bewildering.

After landing horse and carriage safely, we took up our line of travel for the "Cottage Hotel," under the guidance of the runner, who had succeeded in capturing us by his gorgeous descriptions of the superiority of his house over all others. Driving up to the door, wife and child were assisted to alight, and escorted into the house, while the writer drove around to the shed, to see that the horse was provided for, as he had been on short rations on

shipboard, from the length of the voyage. Returning to the house, he found his wife in the sitting room of the hotel, with a most woe-begone countenance. It was plain we had been sold. Our expectations of a savory breakfast, to satisfy the cravings of a sharp appetite, were vanishing fast. Sitting around the stove were some eight or ten men, who seemed to have no business in particular, except to drink whisky and squirt tobacco juice upon the stove. Motioning her husband aside, she exclaimed: "Oh, we cannot stay here. What shall we do?" "Well, wait until the horse has eaten his provender." But it was too much. After enduring it a short time, the horse was brought to the door, and we sought new quarters, leaving the larger portion of oats in the manger, for the benefit of the next horse that came.

OFF FOR PONTIAC.

After remaining in the city one day, we left for our destination, Pontiac. Although the preceding winter had been one of the most severe, and noted for the immense quantity of snow, yet so dry had been the weather during the spring, that not a single mud hole was found between Detroit and Pontiac, the like of which did not occur again for many years. This road had been built at the expense of the U. S. Government, and though no mud was found, yet the corduroy foundation, for the first twelve miles, was intolerably bad. We found Pontiac a thriving and busy village, of great expectations, and no small pretentions, as being, at that time, the largest interior town in the territory. The only house of worship in the town, was a small, frame building, standing on the site of the present Congregational church. The Baptist church occupied the courthouse, as a place of worship. At this time there was a small Baptist meeting-house, built in 1834, at Stony Creek, and a log house, built and used as a place or worship, by the Baptist church of Troy. These, it is believed, were the only houses of worship in the county of Oakland. On arrival at Pontiac, it was found that the church had made arrangements for preaching, so that the writer's services were unnecessary, and after a sojourn of a few days and notifying the H. M. Board of the situation, while waiting for further instructions, he concluded to visit Mt. Clemens. At this time it required about three weeks for a letter from Pontiac, or any interior town in Michigan, to reach New York, and an answer to be returned. There were few daily mails, no railroads, and, in winter, nothing better than the stage coach. At this time the country from Pontiac to Utica was quite thickly settled, although much of it was uncultivated. From Utica to Mt. Clemens was mostly a dense wilderness, with the settlers' cabins in the midst; some just beginning; others with a few acres cleared, but all struggling with the difficulties of making farms in a heavily timbered country. No roads, only as we found our way among the giant trees.

MOUNT CLEMENS IN THE EARLY TIMES.

Mt. Clemens at this time was one of the promising towns of Eastern Michigan. A year or two previous to the time of which we write, C. C. Cooley had purchased the farm of Hon. C. Clemens, and, imbued with the spirit of the times, had platted a city, very beautiful on paper, with broad streets and avenues, and by advertising, etc., many men from New York and New England had been induced to purchase lots and improve them, so that a town had grown up of 800 or 1,000 inhabitants. Here all was bustle and expectation.

Town lots were advancing, extensive improvements were proposed, and all expected it to become the center of power and influence. Such being the case, it was soon surrounded by a cordon of suburban villages whose very names at this day are almost forgotten. On the south was Marcellus, on the west was the city of Frederick. On the east, at the mouth of the Clinton river, was the city of Belvidere, and on the southeast was Long Scauise,* on the margin of Lake St. Clair, which was to be connected either by railroad or canal. At the present day these are all gone. Some old ruins are all that remain to mark the sites of these cities of a former age. At the time of which we speak business was very brisk, shipbuilding was being carried on, a glass factory was nearly completed, and a heavy business was done in the purchase and shipment of staves. Situated at the head of navigation, on the Clinton river, it was connected with Detroit by steamboat, three times a week. In the autumn of 1835 a Baptist church was organized here, of which the writer became pastor. It had no house of worship, neither was there a meeting house of any denomination in the county of Macomb. A court-house and jail of hewed timber occupied a part of the public square, a small school house, nearly finished, was the only other public building in the town. In addition to the Baptist church, there was also a Presbyterian church, and a Methodist class. The Presbyterians, by right of priority, claimed the court house for their use, while the school-house was used by the Baptists in the morning, and by the Methodists in the afternoon. Such was the situation in May, 1836, when the writer became a resident of Mt. Clemens. In his ministry the morning was spent in the village. After a hasty dinner the horse was saddled and away to some log school-house in the woods where a neighborhood congregation would be found waiting to hear the gospel, and after a supper on some settler's plain fare, away to a third appointment in the evening. During the week one or two sermons were preached in settlements that could not be reached on the Sabbath. Where school-houses were found they were used; where none existed, the log cabin of the settler was thrown open and the neighbors were called together to hear the Word. In the warm weather of summer, barns were used when they were to be had.

In this manner the entire region that could be reached from Mt. Clemens was visited and the gospel preached. In nearly every settlement Sabbath schools were instituted. These stated preaching excursions were generally made on horseback; the roads, if such they could be called, not permitting a carriage, and extending through the towns of Clinton, Macomb, Jefferson, Lenox, and Ray, along both sides of the Clinton river, nearly to Utica, into the Red Run settlement, and down toward the mouth of the river until the Catholic settlements were reached. This comprehended the several cities and villages referred to. Occasionally a visit was made to the half-way house, on the Gratiot turnpike, where was a small settlement.

Although the spring of 1836 was very dry, about the 10th of June the rain commenced falling; and in such abundance that the whole country was flooded; the streams overflowed their banks, carrying away nearly all the bridges and rendering traveling nearly out of the question. Twice during that summer the Clinton river overflowed all the lower part of the town, so that the inhabitants were under the necessity of leaving their houses and betaking themselves to the upland. The whole country seemed to be an interminable swamp. The corduroy was even often afloat, requiring the skill

*L'anse Creuse.-C. M. B.

of a Canadian pony to cross in safety. This and the succeeding year, 1837, were known as the years when the water in the rivers and great lakes was higher than it had ever been known. Many of the old farms bordering on Lake St. Clair were under water from six inches to two feet. Orchards of fifty years' growth were destroyed, houses were flooded. The city of Belvidere was entirely submerged, although the farm on which it was built had been cultivated for more than half a century. Under these conditions, in such a country, the crops were either entirely destroyed or badly damaged; food was necessarily scarce and high, and there was much suffering among the new settlers. Money was almost out of the question; some families were driven at times to the necessity of subsisting on leeks and greens of the forests and marshes. In the spring of 1837 the writer joined with his nearest neighbor and sent to Detroit for a barrel of pork, warranted good, which on being opened, disclosed the skin and bones of an Ohio shock-fed hog of uncertain age. For this he paid thirty dollars, chartered funds. Even potatoes were not to be had. A few were obtained for seed at one dollar per bushel. But under all these privations, very little selfishness was manifest. Those who had, shared with those who had not. Hospitality generally prevailed.

FRONTIER HOSPITALITY.

Announcement for public worship was usually made in form something like this: "Preaching at the school-house, in settlement, on evening, at early candle light, and don't forget to bring a candle." And here they came, men, women, and children, generally a good sprinkling of babies, who frequently assisted in the musical part of the exercises, although it must be acknowledged they did not always keep the best of time. After preaching, the minister was of course invited to share the comfort of some one of the settlers' homes for the night. These were neither magnificent or extensive. The best of them were divided into two rooms by a partition of boards through the middle, making what was called the bed-room. Here was the spare bed. But many of them had but the single room with a "Dutch back" as it was called, being a wall of stones laid up with clay against the logs, for a fire place; sometimes clay pounded down and made hard for a hearth; sometimes a chimney and sometimes not. But the hospitality was hearty and wholesouled Supper over and family worship past, then came the tug of war. There are the two beds in sight. One of these the minister is expected to occupy. But how is he to disrobe himself and retire to peaceful slumbers under the circumstances? But even here, difficulties are overcome, for the hostess would be knitting most industriously with her back toward the bed, when the host would say "Elder, you will occupy that bed;" or the ladies would have business out doors until the mystery was finished and the Elder was snugly stowed away with his face to the wall.

Sometimes the case was different, and he was requested to climb a ladder into the attic, and share a bed with some of the younger members of the family, with the stars shining through between the puncheons which covered the roof, if the night chanced to be clear, or find a little snow sprinkled over the bed, if the night was stormy. Sometimes the husband and father would invite himself to a share of the "Elder's bed," while the mother and daughter occupied the parental couch; thus, in reality, separating husband and wife. Thus we lived and labored among the pioneers. Aside from the foreign pop