CHURCH HISTORY: The Old Pioneers - 1884 - Smith County, TX Submitted by Vicki Betts 11 January 2003 Copyright. All rights reserved. http://usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm ***************************************************************** TEXAS CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE, December 6, 1884, p. 2, c. 3 The Old Pioneers - To the Advocate. Reading the "Reminiscences of a Superannuate" started a flood of thoughts in my mind. The scenes of 1841, 1842, 1843, came to me with all the vividness of yesterday. Texas then was very different in everything, save her fertile soil and streams of water, to the Texas of to-day. The settlers' cabins were few and far between. The appointments for preaching in 1841 were none. In what is now called Cass, Titus, Bowie, and Jefferson, they were not thought of. How well I remember the first preacher I heard in the Republic. Some one told us a preacher from Arkansas would preach at a cabin, the central one between two neighborhoods. There were three or four in each settlement ten miles apart. We met there the day appointed. The preacher looked to be a mere youth. About fifteen persons were in attendance. The sermon was a good one, I thought. Hungry for the preached word, we walked five miles to hear it. Our preacher had walked fifteen the day before, as his horse was sick. Jefferson Shook, was the man. I knew him long and well. He organized a society of seven. How we loved him! Then Bro. Littleton Fowler came to us. Ah, how glad his coming made us. To sit and listen to his glowing words made us forget our surroundings, our little cabins and our homely fare. Then Chisholm, Booker, and Poe came; then Woollam. All save one have gone up higher. Pioneer preachers had surely the worth of souls burning on the altar of their hearts, and realized "woe is me if I preach not the gospel." I remember how we paid a part of our quarterage. We spun and wove the cloth for our preacher's pants, and made them for him; we knit his hose, and suspenders. We were glad to do something for God's messengers of glad tidings. There were no houses of worship; one room in our house was generally large enough for the congregation. We had a Sunday-school. Three families attended. That was in 1845. Two of the children came five miles. Bro. Hobbs, preacher in charge. I often think of those Sabbaths, and of my class of five. How I labored to the best of my ability to teach them to love and honor God by obedience to his commands. Then Job M. Baker was our preacher. I loved him as a father to me, and as a faithful servant to the church. The most of the pioneer preachers are gone, and their congregations also. I have no doubt many have clasped hands on the other shore who met around the cabin fires of that long ago, and talked of the mansions being prepared for them when the labor here would be accomplished. Memory lives the curtain for us, and we see those sainted servants of God "counting all things loss" as they toiled for the Master. Now we think of them with the blood-washed throng, singing the praises of him who saves us and makes us heirs of his kingdom and joint heirs with himself-who is the Alpha and Omega with his faithful followers. Surely there is a host of the redeemed clothed in white raiment; yet we will see and know those faithful pastors who come to us with the words of encouragement and peace, and the glad hallelujahs will make the heavenly arches ring as one by one we get home.-LIZZIE Z. SLAGLE. STARRVILLE, NOV. 16.