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As time went on, the minds of the people were turned to the church. A congregational Sunday school was opened without any rules, made up of almost every denomination of Protestant faith or following. It met at the North Madison schoolhouse. They had a very interesting time and were the means of much good. Soon a Methodist circuit rider heard of it and came to preach, the part of the gathering being of that faith. All went well for a time, but soon sectarianism crept in and strife began. The followers of Alexander Campbell and the Baptists had to have more water. The Presbyterians would not permit secret societies. As a result, good fellowship and true religion were jolted.

The Methodists, however, kept on in the lead and formed a class. My father and mother, M. O. Felton and Anna Marie Felton, S. L. Gilbert and wife, and Limon G. Ransom and wife, six in all, formed the class to which we were added. Among those who came by letter from their native States were Clark Martin Nichols, Amos G. Pangburn, Isaac Overley and his wife Mary, Samuel Alexander, a widower, and Isaac Gee and wife.

Father went to Monticello and bought a large family Bible and two hymn books. The hymn books contained mostly Wesley hymns which have been largely displaced in modern Methodist hymn books much to the detriment of the books. Father and mother were good singers and I used enjoy hearing them sing those grand old Wesley hymns. They had taken singing lessons in s singing school conducted by John E. Lovejoy, a brother of Elijah P. Lovejoy.

Soon after the formation of the Methodist class the group decided that they must have a church. I remember that my father came home and said to my mother: “We are not going to talk about it any more, we are going to build.” So they went at it and by hard work raised over two thousand dollars, enough so there was no debt when it was ready for dedication. Some gave more money than they were able to, even to selling the last cow. others gave labor. A man by the name of George Coder was the builder, assisted by his grown boys. The lumber was mostly drawn from Dubuque, fifty miles away, sills sixteen inches square down to ten by ten plates. The top was trussed together like an overhead bridge. The size was thirty by fifty feet, with a vestibule or nursery in front, for the people were young and had plenty of babies. The church had three double windows on a side with twelve by fourteen inch panes of glass, two of smaller size inside the vestibule, and six transit lights above a double door. There were two smaller doors from the vestibule to main room with a spire over the vestibule surmounted with a large tin ball. No bell organ was ever put in this church.

The inside furniture and arrangement were the same as those in other country Methodist churches. The seats were white pine with a walnut rail or rim on top and ends. On each side was a row of seats holding four persons with a space one-fourth from the rear for two wood stoves surrounded by seats. The seats in the middle row held six. The pulpit was in the center of the front surrounded by a railing or mourner’s bench. The pulpit floor was two decks, a platform six inches higher than the main floor and the preacher’s stand six inches higher than this. The floor upon which the pulpit stood was carpeted. The first sofa was stuffed with springs covered with black hair cloth. It was a great honor to be allowed to sit on it. On each side of the platform were two seats called the “Amen corner,” used by the most saintly and hard of hearing.

The old men and all the married men sat on one side and the wives and older women on the other. The young people might sit in front but the rough-necks sat in the rear. The decorum was not very good. Shrill whispering and bad language were sometimes heard during the service, with some laughter and rebukes from the preacher. Every man from the preacher down chewed tobacco and spit in the aisles and on the floor. Nothing was said about it, for it was a general custom. When two men met, one of them was likely to ask for a chew the first thing. There was not much smoking, although most of the men could smoke. A pipe might be passed around in a small gathering in the manner of the red men.

Church service began with Sunday school at nine. We had no lesson leaves. Some of the older members would announce a hymn and someone would start the singing and the rest join in. Some of them could sing, but then as now music brought jealousy and friction. One man, for example, had not much music ability but liked to sing and he usually got the wrong key and balled things up. The congregation felt that some way had to be devised to stop him. My mother’s brother, George Krouse, a very devout man of German blood with a strong accent, was given the job. After the speaking in class meeting he said to the would-be song leader: “you can’t sing and whenever you lead, everybody’s book goes right shut.” The man never sang in church again. After a prayer, there might be another song, and some general questions. Sometimes a heavy argument, not of the best spirit, developed.

Finally it was decided that classes should be organized. I was in the infant class and Aunt Mary Overlely, mother’s sister, read from the chapter selected and explained it as well as she could. The larger children and adults were grouped according to age, the girls in one class, the boys in another, and the old folks in a class by themselves. Sunday school lasted until the preacher arrived and commenced the preaching service. There was no collection. After the church service was over, a class meeting was held. It was led by the class leader and here testimony of religious experiences was given.

On Thursday evening a few of the faithful met for prayer and for a business meeting concerning the church. At some of these meetings some ludicrous episodes occurred. On one occasion, a man about fifty years of age, very excitable and a poor judge of human nature, got there late. As soon as he was done praying he remarked that he must go home as the threshers were to be at his house early in the morning and he must first kill a hog, fix cribs, and notify his help. He pulled out his knife with a gesture, remarked that the hog must be stuck—much to the delight of the less pious—and left for home.

Once a year, the four churches on charge had quarterly meetings with the elder and some other preachers in attendance. It commenced on Saturday afternoon and lasted until Sunday night. On Sunday the people from a distance were invited to the homes of some of the nearby brethren for dinner. Our people, being among the leaders, usually got some of the preachers. It would be one o’clock before they got home. After that dinner must be cooked at least in part and the table set. When things were ready the preachers and the older folks took the first table of eight or ten, and after a long blessing they would begin to eat, with much visiting and an hour would be consumed. Then the young people were seated. They did not take quite so long. After this we children came to the table to eat what was left on dirty dishes. By that time it was nearly time for afternoon worship, and we were soon ordered to hitch the horses for the company. I have been so hungry I wished the whole church would stop.

In the winter there was always a revival. The old standbys were soon in earnest; afterwards the ones who had been dancing or doing other things not in accordance with orthodox training would be brought in. I have heard the preachers and the rest of the faithful around that altar singing “Glory to God, Amen” until I was so scared I hardly dared breathe. And now, though an old man, I have a horror of a church. There was no shouting—that was before my time—but I have heard men tell of their misdeeds and short-comings which I thought and still think should not have been told.

After the meeting a donation supper was usually held, and such a meal! Everything that the culinary of the day afforded was to be had, meats of all kinds, frosted cake trimmed with candy, pies, tarts, sauce, tea, and coffee. The dinner started with oysters. The oysters in those days came in quart flat tin cans, sealed and packed in ice. This meal cost seventy-five cents, the proceeds going to the preacher.

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Last updated on Friday, 16-Apr-2021 16:54:39 MST