WILLIAM WESLEY VAN ORSDEL But the Northwest knows him only as Brother Van Transcriber’s Notes Punctuation has been standardized. Most abbreviations have been expanded in tool-tips for screen-readers and may be seen by hovering the mouse over the abbreviation. This book has drop-caps at the start of each chapter. These drop-caps may adversely affect the pronunciation of the word with screen-readers. This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. W

“N OW, boy, watch and you’ll see one of the sights of the war! Our troops are going to charge and take that battery.” It was the first day of the great battle of Gettysburg, July 1, 1863; and the Confederate cavalry leader, General Jenkins, at his post on a sheltered hillside, was pointing out to a rough-clad, barefoot boy from a near-by farmhouse the movements of the troops on the opposite side. As William Wesley Van Orsdel had heard at home of the battles in which his ancestors had fought, he

Everywhere there were wounded men crying for water and all through the hot days William hurried from point to point, carrying help and cheer. Often he was in danger from the heavy shell fire, for Gettysburg saw the greatest artillery engagement that had ever been known. Five hundred and sixty-nine tons of shells were hurled by the opposing batteries in the course of three days. The boy had at one time a moment of breathless suspense when a cannon ball fell near him, but it failed to explode. Exc

The romantic episode of the return of this woman guide to her own tribe was one of the strange incidents of the expedition. Over unknown trails the daring scouts went in the untracked wilderness. It is hard to realize the suffering they endured from hunger, sickness, and other dangers. Their advance along the upper Missouri is of particular interest here. One day Captain Lewis, who was traveling on foot in order to lighten the canoes, climbed a high cliff and there before his glad eyes lay the “

Many years earlier Wilbur Fisk, who had been stirred by a strange story of the Indians, had made an appeal in the columns of The Christian Advocate . The incident which had come to the knowledge of Wilbur Fisk would stir the heart of any eager young Christian. In these days when all churches are giving to home missions as never before the story must be retold, for it brought the beginning of Christian work in the section where the quest was made. Four Indians garbed in their odd dress appeared o

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t got it.” “Well, what in the world are you going to Montana for?” “Oh, to sing and pray, and to encourage people to be good.” The captain eyed the would-be passenger wonderingly. “Well, I have been running this boat for a good many years, but I have never known of a person going to Montana for that purpose,” he exclaimed. “If you will sing and preach for us, I’ll take you for fifty dollars.” The embarrassed young man was forced to admit that he did not have even five dol

RUINS OF HISTORIC FORT BENTON, WHERE BROTHER VAN ATE JERKED BUFFALO MEAT AND HEARD TALES OF INDIAN WARFARE On the Monday following that eventful Sabbath, Brother Van set out to explore the town. The central interest of Fort Benton was its fur trading. This industry was developed in the United States by the enterprise of John Jacob Astor. He saw that Canada was profiting by this trade, and in 1812 he petitioned Congress to establish fur trading posts within the boundaries of the United States, an

One of the oldest institutions of the tribe was the building of the medicine lodge, a celebration which Brother Van followed with the keenest interest. It took place at the time of the ripening of berries in the summer, and lasted through four days and nights. The lodge was always erected in fulfilment of a vow made by some woman of the tribe who was in trouble and who wished the help of the gods, perhaps to bring back in safety a husband or son away at war, or to restore a sick child to health.

A pony had been given to Brother Van during his visit at Helena. He was now in reality a circuit-rider, and as he became familiar on the plains, he and his steed began to be known everywhere as the “Gospel Team.” They traveled through a large section of the state and when the anniversary of Brother Van’s arrival in Montana came, it was an experienced preacher who celebrated it. Such a wonderful year it had been! Hardships were forgotten in the triumphs, for many “first services” had been conduct

“I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. “Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.” These were the words with which the preacher sought to quiet the alarm in the hearts of the waiting people. At daybreak a swift rider came into town and one arm dangled as he rode. Then came another rider who brought the message, “Indians are devastating and killing as they come and many of the settlers are being kill

As Brother Van reached Big Hole on his way to Missoula a scene of horror greeted his eyes. The bodies of the lately fallen heroes had been hurriedly buried, for another Indian attack was impending. A storm had followed which made the earth so soft that the prowling wild beasts of the plains had exhumed the bodies of the brave men and were devouring them. The missionary halted in his journey and sent a messenger to Fort Missoula, which was then in course of erection. From there a company of men w

The Indian pursued him to the entrance and then gave up the chase. Had he known that the white man was unarmed, this history might never have been written, for the Indian was out to get revenge upon the whites, and the story of his pursuit afterward created nation-wide interest. It is a gruesome story, but has much of value as it reveals some reasons for the Indian traits which our government has not always understood in the past. The first scene was enacted when a troop of United States soldier

“Well, I’ll tell you a story if you’ll promise not to get angry about it.” “I promise,” said the preacher. “Two men at the service on Sunday morning remembered afterward that Brother Van’s salary was short, and they agreed to play for the money in the afternoon. If A. won, the money was to be Brother Van’s; if B. did, Brother Van lost. Word went around and the saloon filled with sports to watch the game. If A. won, the crowd yelled, ‘The Lord gets that!’ and if B. was lucky, ‘That goes to the de

“Why not finish it right away?” “I’d love to, but not one cent of debt is to be placed on this or on any other church I have anything to do with.” “But, can these few people build this church?” “They can and will, with the help of the Board of Home Missions.” “Ah, if people only knew the need of home missions, we would not have to see these churches which we try to put in the new centers struggle and languish as they do,” he adds. “Why try to have a church so soon, then?” “Ah, Sister, that is th