I am the only child of Col. Augustine Claiborne Butts and Anna Maria Claiborne. He was the son of Genl. Daniel Claiborne Butts and Elizabeth Randolph Harrison, of the "Berkeley," James river family. My mother was the daughter of Rev. John Gregory Claiborne, of “Roslin” Brunswick county, and Mary Elizabeth Weldon, daughter of Daniel Weldon of N. C. I was born at “Roslin” October 10th, 1848. Our home was at Lawrenceville. My grandfather Claiborne was a Local Preacher on the old Brunswick circuit for sixty-two years. He died in 1887, at the home of his son, Dr. John Herbert Claiborne, in Petersburg.

In 1853 father removed to Hicksford, (now Emporia,) and in 1855 to Petersburg. My parents took me with them to High Street Methodist Church, that being the nearest church to our residence on High St. We were living there in the great snow storm of 1857. In 1858 father bought a home on Lawrence St. This move brought us so near Washington Street Church, that mother joined that church and placed me in that Sunday School. Mr. Willie Cowles, the son of Rev. Henry B. Cowles, of our Conference, was my teacher. When Market Street church was completed, under Dr. John E. Edwards, my mother withdrew from Washington Street, and joined that church, and became a Leader of one of the Ladies’ Classes. I entered the Sunday School at the same time with Mr. W. C. James as my teacher.

I publicly confessed Christ during a great meeting held in this church by Dr. R. N. Sledd in 1862. I took up my studies for the work of the ministry in January, 1868, under Dr. (afterward Bishop) John C. Granbery, and, having secured the position of Station Agent at Stoney Creek on the Petersburg Weldon R. R. in February, continued with the valuable aid of Rev. Jas. A. Riddick, then a retired member of the Conference. In the last week of September of this year I entered Randolph Macon College at Ashland, Rev. John Hannon entering the same day.

I was licensed to preach by the Fourth Quarterly Conference of the Hanover circuit, held at North Run Church, Henrico county, Va., March 6th, 1869, and the paper is signed by Jacob Manning, Presiding Elder. Dr. John Hannon was licensed the same day by the same body.

In the summer of 1869 I was employed by the Presiding Elder of the Richmond District to serve through the summer as junior on the old Gloucester circuit under Rev. E. M. Peterson, D. D., his patience, his courage, his wise counsel, his kindly care for all that concerned my improvement in knowledge and my growth in grace, had much to do with the success of my ministry in after years. He was a most valuable teacher.

When College opened in the fall of ’69 I returned to Ashland and completed my second year under the supervision of Dr. Duncan. The death of my father in August, 1870, and the breaking up of my home in Petersburg, led me to cast myself upon God absolutely for guidance, not knowing which way to turn.

 I returned to my room in Ashland, my only home, and waited for the answer to my prayer. It came in a very short while in a very singular way. Rev. Geo. W. Nolley had been taken from the Caroline circuit and made Agent of Randolph Macon College. Bro. P. C Archer, my roommate of the last session, had been selected to fill out his term on the charge. Archer wanted help, and sent for me. I went. At the Fourth Quarterly Conference, held at Hopewell Church at Guinea’s Station, on the R. F. P. Railway, Bro. J. H. Davis, the Presiding Elder, informed us that Bishop Pierce had written him that one of us must join Conference. The lot fell to me. I went to the Hanover Quarterly Conference which met soon after this, passed the required examination, was duly recommended for Admission on Trial, and went up to the Annual Conference at Lynchburg in November, with my papers in legal form.Conference was held in the old Court Street church, and on Friday, November 11th, 1870, I was Admitted on Trial, Bishop Geo. F. Pierce, Presiding, the other members of the Class being joshua S. Hunter, James T. Lumpkin, and Geo. W. Matthews. Bro. Matthews was immediately transferred to Arkansas. He and Brother Lumpkin have long since gone to their great reward. Brother Hunter and I alone remain.Of the one hundred and sixty-five members of the Virginia Conference living November 11th, 187O, the following remain October 19th, 1921:- Wm. E. Ludkins, John P. WoodWard, James O. Moss, S. S. Lambeth, Charles E. Watts, James C. Reed, J. Wiley Bledsoe, Richard Ferguson, Joshua S. Hunter, and Daniel G. C. Butts; Ten.The following pages record my travels for nine years in the Piedmont region of Virginia, and forty-two years in Tidewater.

 I have travelled over every mile of this territory by “In the Saddle" and “By Buggy, Boat and Railway.” My last move was made in an automobile. The speed under the steady eye and the strong hand of my dear brother, Waller L. Hudgins, of Central, Hampton, was too great to allow that vehicle a place in the title of this story. Much remains untold because the records were not within my reach. I regret that I have been unable to do better work on such an important task.

Note: His Diary of 36 years burned in a parsonage fire in December, 1909.

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CHAPTER VI

THE CONFERENCE OF 1885 AND PRINCESS ANNE

The Conference of 1885 met in Petersburg Nov. 11th and adjourned Tuesday the 17th. Bishop John C. Keener presided.
The Delegates to the General Conference which met in the city of Richmond in May. 1886, were elected. They were our BIG MEN. Read the names, - John E. Edwards, R. N. Sledd, W. W. Bennett, John D. Blackwell, Paul Whitehead, P. A. Peterson, and J. J. Lafferty. Reserves. L. S. Reed and A. G. Brown. The Lay delegates were W. W. Walker, Richard Irby, L. L. Marks, R. W. Peatross, W. T. Chandler, T. W. Mason and W. W. Berry. Reserves were W. M. Jones, James Cannon and C. V. Winfree.
“Bishop Keener laid before the Conference the action of the General Conference of the M. E. Church, South, taken on the 25th of May, 1882. as follows'
“Resolved, That the matter of changing the name of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. to the Methodist Episcopal Church in America, be referred to the several Annual Conferences during the ensuing four years, and that they report the result of the vote to the General Conference of 1886 for ratification.”
The roll was called, and the Conference voted as follows:
In favor of changing the name ........ 1
Against changing the name ........... 147
Statistics showed at this Conference 63, 996 members of the Church, and 46,960 Sunday Scholars.
Raised for Superannuated preachers, widows and orphans ...... $ 6666.00
For Foreign Missions ....... 12,079.38
For Domestic Missions ..........6,871.59
By Rosebud Missionary Society ....4,731.85
By Woman’s Missionary Society .... 2,160.00
Total for Missions ................ $25,843.82
I give these figures that we may get an accurate idea of the DISTANCE traveled since 1885.
Conference adjourned with the appointments read on the night of the 17th. Rev. A. B. Warwick succeeded me in Middlesex, and I was sent to Princess Anne in the Norfolk District, after fifteen years’ service on the Randolph Macon District, five years on the south side and ten years on the north side of the Rappahannock river.
As I packed my stuff, and counted my packages, I thought of a description of that process given by a certain preacher and picked up by me in my travels.
It reads as follows:- “The greatest curiosity in pastoral life is the parson’s baggage when he moves. No ordinary packer can arrange that heterogeneous mass so that the public carrier will receive it. You know it is said that ‘a rolling stone gathers no moss.’ The principle is not always sustained by the facts. A parson was sent to a certain section. He carried with him a horse, saddle and bridle, a pair of saddle-pockets stuffed with books and clothes. He had, also, a linen duster, a faded umbrella, and a dingy shawl thrown over his shoulders. This was the aggregate of his earthly possessions and the young fellow thought himself rich. He remained in that region ten solid years, serving in that time three good circuits. When he left he carried with him a horse, carriage, harness, saddle, bridle, wife, four children, three trunks, three suit-cases, one satchel, four barrels, three big boxes, one little box, one box of pictures, a small keg, a pair of saddle-pockets, a baby’s chair, and a cradle. A dog and a colored girl had to be left behind. It required, besides his own horse and carriage, three two-horse wagons to move him. The packing of these treasures was a task. There were new quilts and pillow-slips, honey and shoes, pickle and sausage, meat and under-clothing, preserves and sermons, lard and books, pamphlets and souse, butter and hats, socks and soap, canned fruit and baby clothes. This miscellaneous collection of a preacher's wealth filled numerous receptacles, and the freight bill left his pocket-book as thin as a greyhound.”
That may be a very exaggerated inventory of a moving preacher's baggage, but it differs very little from my own at the time we made that long move from Middlesex county on the Rappahannock river to Nimmo’s in Princess Anne county, eighteen miles east of Norfolk, in that bleak December weather in 1885. The journey began on Tuesday the 1st day of the month, and ended on Saturday the 5th about sunset. Brother J. D. Hank my predecessor on the Princess Anne circuit, made all necessary arrangements for the transportation of my goods from Norfolk to Nimmo’s. I had all my family and “stuff” at the Urbanna creek wharf early Tuesday afternoon, but on account of a heavy north east storm the steamer did not get into the creek until Friday night about 7 o’clock. Then the real journey began. My family, which had been distributed around the village since Tuesday, was gotten together, and followed the household goods aboard the boat. The river was rough, but Chesapeake Bay was a storm-tossed fury, the waves dashing against the sides of the old “Mary Washington” making a noise like the bursting of a blast in a quarry. It was a night never to be forgotten, but our five children slept through the horrible hours with never a complaint.
Brother Hank with Brothers Sandy Brock and Jonathan Hunter, met us on the dock on our arrival in Norfolk next morning. Bro. Hank took us to his parsonage on Park Avenue for lunch, While the brethren named above, Stewards of Nimmo’s church, took charge of our effects to be sent by wagons to our new home eighteen miles away. After lunch we set out in two conveyances. Brother Hunter with a portion of the tribe in his carriage, and I with the remainder, with Bro. Hank’s horse hitched to my buggy, followed. We suffered from cold, but after two hours of travel we found in the parsonage a glorious fire and a hot supper. Two of the thoughtful ladies, Sister John Brown and her daughter received us cordially, and then left us to occupy to our heart’s content.
I opened my commission at Charity church, eight miles south, on Sunday morning the 6th, to a small gathering of enthusiastic Methodists who had turned out in the bitter cold winds to see and hear the new preacher. At 3 P. M., a large congregation, which filled the house to its capacity, greeted me at the Tabernacle. Joe Herrick, the son-in-law of Brother Hank, guided me to these churches, and introduced me to sundry saints and others. I returned to the parsonage at the close of a delightful day and told my wife that the outlook indicated a pleasant and profitable year on the Princess Anne circuit.
Rev. Wm. E. Judkins, D. D., was my Presiding Elder. He was at Market St. church, Petersburg, during the last year of the life of my father, and conducted the services at his funeral. His sympathetic ministrations during these dark days when the main support of the home lay an invalid and on that darker day when the precious remains were brought home from Buffalo Springs gave him a warm place in our hearts. He was deeply interested in my preparations for the work of the ministry, and when the home was broken up, his interest was intensified. Hence I had always carried in my heart a boy’s love for this preacher, and when I was sent to his District he welcomed me warmly, and aided me by all means at his command in the delicate and difficult work of this large and important Field of eleven churches.
Bro. Judkins did not get to many of his Quarterly Conferences on the first round of this, his third, year. On his way to his Currituck appointment in a buggy owned and operated by Rev. J. T. Routten, Preacher in Charge, an accident befell them which came very near putting both P. E. and P. C., permanently out of the business of “dispensing with the Gospel” in these parts. Routten owned a splendid horse. fast and furious. and ridiculously rude in his behavior should his nerves, set on a hair-trigger, receive a shock of any sort. Bro. Routten met the Presiding Elder at the Station on the Norfolk Southern Railroad in Currituck Co. N. C. The morning was cold; Routten`s horse was on his mettle and wanted to go and Routten let him. Down that level lowland road, this hurricane built on polished hoof and wrapped in shining hide, rushed as if linked with the forces of the rolling Atlantic. The swift revolving wheels rattled over the icy track and the frigid air, set in motion by the speed of the zealous animal, swept by the ears of the silent preachers like the rush of a flood of waters. Suddenly, and without warning, a “North Carolina Bald Eagle,” commonly known as a “Fish Hawk.” arose gracefully from an adjoining fence and laid his course to the summit of a towering pine. In that instant the horse changed his course and started back, with no slacking of speed, to “the place from whence he came," carrying with him the front wheels and shafts: the body with the hind wheels attached stopped abruptly in the road: the cushion seat sailed out over the dash; Bro. Ludkins went out over on one side, and Routten lit out for the zenith, where the sun, in his glory, daily lights the way. But this aspiring genius, having had no time to prepare for the flight, fell into a ditch by the wayside.
This explains the absence of Brother Ludkins from the First Quarterly Conference of the Princess Anne circuit for that year: but Rev. J. D. Hank came in his stead, told us all about the accident in his own inimitable style, (we had heard nothing of it till then,) preached finely, and administered the Sacrament to his old flock, and returned Sunday afternoon to his own new field, the East Norfolk circuit, leaving us all refreshed by his unexpected visit.
Virginia Beach was a very insignificant, but promising, village by the sea in the days of my pastorate in Princess Anne. There were the railroad station, one house on the Ocean front at the foot of 17th Street, the Princess Anne Hotel, and a new hotel erected south of the present Lake Station during my term. Between the Princess Anne Hotel and the Life Saving Station there was not a building: nor was there one north of that Station till you came to Cape Henry Life Saving Station, known as No. 1-Five miles. There was no railway to Norfolk by way of Cape Henry. The Norfolk and Virginia Beach Railroad was a steam narrow gauge affair with its terminus at the Princess Anne Hotel. Tunis Station, now Oceana, was the port of departure and entry for all that region as far south as Nimmo’s, and to most of the farmers in Great Neck.
Since that far away period the sons of the farmers have fallen upon better facilities for travel. The Norfolk Southern R. R. runs an Electric Line of cars to Virginia Beach, on northward to Cape Henry, thence by way of Lynnhaven Inlet, across the Inlet on a substantial bridge, to Norfolk. Virginia Beach is an incorporated town fully three miles long. The Baptists have a large Auditorium for their Sunday School Summer encampment, and a very attractive little church edifice. The Methodists have an excellent brick church, erected during my pastorate; the Episcopalians occupy the old Galilee chapel, used so long as a place of worship by all. The Presbyterians also have erected a church in the last few years.
The Beach is a popular resort for the monied people, our “poor rich folks,” who live throughout the year, as the wild fowl lives, hatching elsewhere, but living in the north in Summer and in Florida in Winter. They pause at Virginia Beach going either way to rest their wings, and get some good old Virginia food. Cooked as only a Virginia colored cook knows how. The bathing is fine, the boarding houses are unexcelled anywhere, north or south.
My visits to Great Neck in '86 and '87 were confined to a limited field. I remember Harrison Brock’s. Wm. T. Brocks. and Geo. E. Ferebee. I was at Mr. Shep. ]James's home once I think. The latter Brock and Ferebee lived on Link Horn and Broad Bays, Mr. James on Lynnhaven river. The oysters were fine, the fishing good, the boat rides delightful, and the general air of things around and about those parts such as a tired young man enjoyed greatly after a heavy day’s visiting and preaching. Wm. T. Brock I remember as a goodnatured, cheerful. industrious fellow. excelled only by his brother, Harrison, in his delight in a good yarn and a hearty laugh. I married two couples down in that end of the work; January the 27th, 1887, Mr. N. B. Godfrey and Miss Sallie F. Overstreet, and February the 17th, Mr. J. Willie Bonney and Miss Mary V. L. Woodhouse. On the 25th of February. 1886, I united in marriage Mr. M. T. Ives and Miss Mary E. Braithwaite, and on March 3, 1887, Jonathan Hunter and Miss Laura F. Nimmo, at Nimmo's.
From Tunis’ Station on southward I had a number of members and visited their homes about twice a year, except when sickness among them called. Then my visits were repeated as long as need required. Jonathan Hunter was the preacher's friend and his door stood open at all times to him. Emerson Land with his two daughters and many sons were in the same section. Sandy Brock, the splendid bachelor, who with Bro. Hunter and Bro. John Brown, had the lead at Nimmo’s church, were dependable men of faith and sterling piety in the home, on the highway, everywhere: consecrated, devout, at public worship, or at any other time, without affectation, and sincere. Claude Nimmo, Charlie Brock, The Flanagans, the James families, Major Woodhouse and John Woodhouse at the store, and Miss Kate Dyer, Charlie Brock's wife and Mrs. Styron, - all these and others placed us under life-long obligations for thoughtful and timely attentions to the pastor’s family in his constant and protracted absences from home, meeting the incessant calls made upon him by this large circuit.
The size of the work and the miles to be traveled were sufficient to discourage any man of ordinary nerve: but I was not that man: hence I entered upon the task of visiting my people daily, and preaching to them when I could. There were eight regular churches in my charge, at Charity and Tabernacle on the first Sunday. Nimmo’s and Providence on the second. Salem and Beech Grove on the third, and Knott’s Island and Bethel on the fourth. There were three others under the care of Rev. Saml. B. McKenny, a Local Preacher, which were under my supervision; namely, Little Neck, Wash Woods and Currituck Inlet. We had 1069 members to visit. So I divided up the work by roads, and communities, and tackled the proposition with all that was in me. By the beginning of the summer I had been inside of every home on the charge, and had held family worship with nine out of every ten. The result was this, when the time for revival meetings came the people were ready, for they had not only heard the preacher pray in their homes for a great year, but they heard him preach for a great year from every pulpit. And we had a great year! Congregations had been large all the year, but now they actually removed the sashes from the windows and listened at these points from the outside.
The campaign began on July 21st, at Knott’s Island. Many souls were converted and the church revived. The brethren there said it was a meeting of great power. But it was only the forerunner of what was to come on the circuit. I began a meeting at Charity church on Sunday, Aug. 1st, that continued till the 15th, -two weeks. There were two hundred penitents from beginning to end, and one hundred and ninety-six professions. The six days of thunder storms, with a downpour each time did not stop the people from coming. They came, rejoiced or pled for salvation, or sat in silent awe at the mighty power of God, then, either went home in the hot sunshine, or in the pouring showers, got dry clothing and came back the next day. In one day thirty or more professed faith in Christ, saving faith, and scores went from the meeting day after day with an experience of the power of Jesus to save from sin that abided with them for life. In fact, many of them passed to their reward in a few years rejoicing on the bed of death that the meetings in Princess Anne in l886 had swept them into the kingdom.
From Charity church I went to Salem, near Kempsville. and began a meeting there which resulted in the saving of some valuable souls, but, worn out from constant preaching and travel. I had to close the meeting at the end of the week and take my bed for three days. A severe bilious attack had rendered me utterly unable to do anything. I had preached twice daily for a month, and went down easily under the attack of fever.
Having recovered I began another meeting of great power at Bethel church, fifteen miles from the Nimmo's parsonage, on Morse’s Point. Bro. Hank had faithfully tried to put it upon a solid basis for work, but had had little encouragement from the community. A “faithful few” met him there at his regular appointment every fourth Sunday, listened to the sermon in an uncomfortable and contracted building and went home. Wm. N. White, Chas. V. Dudley and Jas. Salmonds with their families and the families of Calvin Beasley and Milton Seneca, made up the congregation. A few others above Dudley’s road augmented somewhat the crowd. The meeting at Charity threw its ever widening influence into this neighborhood with the conversion of John Cason, Letcher Guynn, and half a dozen more. So, when the meeting began at Bethel on Sunday September the 19th. The interest in the preached word was manifest from the very first sermon delivered. And the crowd increased day after day. At the end of the meeting, on the 26th, We received into the church about, thirty souls, and the church was saved.,for the question of abandoning the work there had had serious consideration for a number of years.
From that point I went to Nimmo`s and Providence, but whilst some few were saved there was lacking that irresistible influence of the membership with the unconverted so evident in the other meetings. Nearly four hundred were added to the church in the year 1886, the year of the greatest results of my ministry. I did all the preaching myself. But with the co-operation of such people as l had around me it would have been an amazing thing if I had not had a sweeping revival.
The year closed with a battle with the Liquor forces of the county. We swept them clear off the field in the Pungo District, but in the District in which the Court House, and London Bridge and Virginia Beach were located the Liquor crowd won by a majority of twelve. That was all. but it was too great a majority for a section that contained four Methodist churches, one Baptist church and an Episcopal church. All pretending to represent the unselfish and strictly moral principles, not to say spiritual principles of Jesus, the enemy of all evil.
Conference met in Cumberland Street church, Norfolk, in November, and the liquorites were much exercised about having me removed because I made it my business in the Local Option fight to make speeches to the Negroes. Hence they wrote a letter to Bishop Granhery asking' him to “send them a white preacher.” Of course. Bishop Granhery returned me to the circuit and then the real meanness of the opposition to good morals showed itself as it had opportunity, and frequently manufactured the opportunity.
My predecessors on this venerable circuit had gathered around them as officials and otherwise some of the finest examples of manhood to be found anywhere in Methodism. They were not all educated men in the sense in which the term is understood by the common people; but they were of the class of men who have made Methodism a great force on the earth. Knott’s Island, in Currituck county, N. C.. had Timothy Bowden, Wilson Cooper, William Cooper. Zach. Simpson, Malichi Corbell, Jon Waterfield, Devaney Waterfield and Ferdinand Bonney. Charity had John A. Shipp. Caleb White, Thos. Ayers, John Bonney, George Dawley, Jeremiah Lane, John Early Whitehead, Jim Vaughn, Walter Dawley, Wm. Harrison, George Garrison and a dozen others. Tabernacle had W. B. Bonney, Joshua Whitehurst, Jas. White, Early Eaton, Ed Atwood and others. Nimmo's had Sandy and Charles Brock, Jonathan Hunter, John Brown, Claud Nimmo and others. Providence had William and Harrison Brock. and George Ferebee. Salem had Jesse Ewell, Henry Land, Caleb Land, Jos. Whitehurst. Beech Grove had W. T. Strawhand and the preacher Jas. Strawhand and W. D. Woodhouse and others. These names, and the women associated with these names are graven on my memory in ineffaceable characters. Through the two years I served the circuit they co-operated with me in every work and were the reason for my great success on that laborious Field. Some of these men were wonderful in prayer, some were great in handling the financial problems always vexing on a large circuit, others were influential in giving the church the “go” in any throng, and all were consecrated Methodists. The great revival brought others into the official board whose broad views placed the church in that section on a high plane from which it has never retreated.
Timothy Bowden, the leading steward on the Island, was one of the most remarkable men I ever knew. He was deficient in education, but had a double supply of common sense, a brave heart, saving faith in Jesus Christ, and the confidence of the entire population. The preacher could depend upon him because he had no “wild-cat” ideas. He made a comfortable living on the gaming waters with his gun, and he could bring down ducks and geese as easily with his steady aim, as he brought down sinners with his holy living and fervent prayers. He could appreciate a joke, and would laugh until he seemed to suffer from head to foot with shaking of his bones, but he had mighty little use for an unfaithful church-member, or a worthless citizen. He said “The Lord would settle with such people,” and "I will not bother with ’em: I am too busy minding my own business."
John A. Shipp was a brainy man; a leader among men; courageous and prudent. Hence some said he was backward in doing certain things. There was never a greater mistake. He was a farseeing man, and would not jump into a movement of any sort with the only reason for doing it that brother So-and-so, a dear good man, had cried and prayed over it. John Shipp prayed over it, too, and if after praying, he found that all the indications pointed to the thing being the thing to do for the good of the church and the glory of God, he would go into it with his mighty influence among the people who trusted his judgment, and his money which he had earned with the sweat of his brow and the load from his trusty gun. But if he didn’t see it that way no amount of coaxing or pleading would move him. And as for threatening, he would only smile and go about his business, and he was always busy, too busy to fuss with anybody, not even a fussy pastor. He was a good man, who loved God with all his heart, and served his church with mind and money. Hence some folks who did not know said he “bossed Charity church." Well, my judgment is that any church is fortunate to have a “Boss” like Shipp at Charity and Tim Bowden at Knott’s Island. A few years later when certain brainless influences threatened the life of both these great congregations, many a Godly heart cried to heaven, “O Lord, send Shipp and Bowden back right here now, for we need ’em!” The proof of his good sense and consecration to God is to be found in the character of the children he gave to the church and the community. Men may say what they please about instances in which the children of good men and women have gone astray in spite of home-training, but my judgment is the “instances” are exceptions to the general rule. The character of the boy or the girl is formed at home: good or bad, depending absolutely upon the kind of training it gets. If they go astray, either a blunder has been made somehow that has aided in some way the malformation, or the home influence was not what the public thought it was.
My work on the Princess Anne circuit extended from the mouth of Lynnhaven river and Cape Henry to Currituck Inlet in North Carolina, and from Kempsville to the Ocean. It was about fifty miles long and fifteen miles wide. It included the famous ducking section of Back Bay, Shipp’s Bay, North Bay, Ragged Island, Cedar Island, Knott’s Island Sound, and Currituck Sound all the way down beyond Church’s Island. Knott’s Island was inhabited by a sturdy people, about one thousand at the time of which I write. There was a Methodist church on the Island, belonging to the circuit, of about 250 members. There was also a Baptist church with a small membership. The Island was ten miles long. Three miles in Virginia and seven miles in North Carolina. Over on the ocean opposite the Island were two Life Saving Stations, No. 5, or “Wash Woods," and No. 6, or “False Cape.” Farther south yet was No. 7, or “Currituck Inlet.”
The two appointments. “Wash Woods" and “Currituck Inlet” were intensely interesting to me. There were two ways to get to these appointments, a drive from “Sand Bridge,” near Tabernacle church, down the beach when the tide was low, past “Little Island,” No. 4, and “Wash Woods,” No. 5, and “False Cape,” No. 6, to Currituck Inlet,” No. 7. The distance is about twenty one miles; and when the tide has gone down, leaving beach as firm as the terrific pounding of the sea waves upon it can make, rolling in with an irresistible force from a thousand miles away, the drive is exhilarating, inspiring, romantic, if the weather is good. But anything else when the weather is bad. When one arrives at “Wash Woods” he is ready to spend the night in at the Station with the hardy Watchers, for he knows that a comfortable bed offers him a good night’s rest and solid food, and tales of the sea will make his stay a delight. Captain Neal, Otis Ewell and the other fellows were always glad to see the arriving preacher, and speed his departure when it suited him to go. Five miles further south “False Cape," with Captain Corbell and his brave lads offered the next place for a homely, but hearty reception. At the next Station south, "Currituck Inlet,” I knew few of the Patrol, but I knew the people who heard me preach at the little school house back of the sand banks in the Live Oak forest. And they were ever ready to hear the Word of Life by whomsoever delivered, for they were a plain people who “hungered after righteousness," and only wanted to know “the way of the Lord.”
My intercourse with the Life Savers and their families brought me into contact with as true and faithful a body of men and women as I have ever known anywhere. In many respects they were men above the average in courage, patience, intelligence, and, in many instances, reverence for holy things. Some were godless, without hope, reckless, profane, but these were few. I have seen them in the prayer-meeting, at public worship, at the bedside of the sick; I have walked the lonely beach with them at night, getting up from a warm bed at midnight, of two A. M. to go; I have witnessed their daring in time of danger, when a cool head and consummate skill in snatching success from the raging ocean; and nothing but these qualities could have brought victory. They have taught me the lesson of perseverance in the hard school of practical “doing for the other fellow,” never stopping to ask the nationality or the color of the unfortunate out yonder where Death is shaking his white fist from every wave crest.
The wreck of the German merchant ship “Elizabeth” at Sand Bridge, eight miles south of Virginia Beach, and five miles east of the parsonage, at Nimmo’s church on Saturday, fan. 8, 1887, burned itself into my soul as one of the most distressing events that has ever occurred on that dangerous coast. A great snow-storm set in on Friday morning the 7th, from the northeast, and increased in fury until night-fall when the wind attained the velocity of a gale. Early Saturday morning the patrol on the beach reported a large full rigged ship aground on the inner bar. Her crew had taken refuge in the yawl boat under the stern, and were in comparative safety. The Captains of No. 3, “Dam Neck” station, and No. 4, “Little Island,” got out their apparatus, and were on the spot opposite the stranded vessel ready to render any assistance the high wind and sea would allow them to give. But going out to the wreck in the Life Boat was deemed too dangerous to attempt just then, so more than two hours were spent trying to shoot a Life Line across the deck; but even this was impossible. Then Captain Webb Balangee, of “Little lsland" station, determined to man the Life boat with a volunteer crew from both stations, and go out to the rescue of the strangers. Besides Captain Balangee, there were Jas. E., (his brother) Joe Spratley, (his brother-in-law) of the “Dam Neck" station, and John Etheridge, (another brother-in-law), Frank Tedford, George Stone and John Land from the “Little Island" station. On reaching the ship at about 10:30 A. M., twenty-two Germans including the Captain, whose name was Hulberstadt, were found in the yawl boat. A transfer of eight Germans to the Life boat made fifteen men in that boat, leaving fourteen in the yawl. Then the perilous return trip to the beach began. The sea was still running very high and hardly had the boats cleared the protecting stern of the great ship when a big wave upset both, leaving twenty-nine struggling men in the icy waters of the Atlantic. Every German lost his life by freezing or drowning, and of the Lifesavers, only two, Frank Tedford and John Etheridge reached the shore alive. and these on the very verge of collapse.
I heard nothing of the disaster, on account of the dreadful weather prevailing, which broke up all travel in that section, till Sunday morning. Then in company with my friend, Mr. George Bowden, I went to the sea-shore more to be with the bereaved families of the men than to satisfy curiosity; for these families had been members of my congregation at Tabernacle. Rev Mr. Savage, Of the Episcopal Church, (an Evangelical preacher and a faithful pastor, besides honoring me with his friendship) ministered to the widows and orphans at “Dam Neck." He conducted the funeral service over the remains of Spratley and the Balangee brothers at "Dam Neck," whilst I performed the same service over the remains of Stone and Land at Tabernacle on Monday the 10th, after which the first three were interred in the old Cemetery at Tabernacle, and the bodies of Stone and Land in the family burying ground near Capp’s Shop on Pungo Ridge. Here, also, was a double bereavement. Brother Andrew Land, the father of John, the dead surfman, had married Mrs. Stone, the mother of George, the other surfman. So the tragic event assumed the proportions of a tremendous family disaster, in which kin wept with kin, or stood in silent awe in the presence of an appalling calamity that came near engulfing all they held dear in the pitiless depths of the ocean.
The remains of Capt. Hulberstadt were taken to Baltimore by one of the Masonic Lodges of that city. The bodies of nineteen Germans were carried to Norfolk, and the funeral obsequies conducted by Rev. J. B. Merritt, at that time Chaplain of the Seaman’s Bethel. The body of the twentieth victim came ashore about a month later, and was interred by the side of his unfortunate comrades in Norfolk. The body of the last of this unfortunate crew had not been found when last I heard from that section.
The wrecks on that beach are not so numerous in these years as formerly. The crews are better organized, are supplied with improved apparatus and the service all along the coast is more efficient. But the men of this day are no braver, nor more skillful in their Work than the men of that day. The service has never had truer men, nor have there been more examples of deliberate and unselfish sacrifice than the surfmen made in the days of Barco, Balangee, Neal and Corbell. I obtained many a valuable lesson out of the lives of these men, and of the sturdy crews that served under them, on that storm-swept beach.
I was at the “False Cape” Life-Saving Station, (No. 6,) the night of the 31st of August, 1886. It was the night of the historic Charleston, (S. C.) earthquake. The tremors were very perceptible there, although at the time of the happening none of us suspected the cause. Captain Corbell and several of his men, and my young friend George Bowden, of Middlesex, were sitting in the boat room at the south door. The two young ladies who had accompanied Bowden and me from Nimmo’s to witness the going of the men on duty this, the first night of the season, had retired to their room upstairs. When the shaking began the Captain remarked “The ladies upstairs are having a good old romp: their antics are shaking the house.” It was a most unusual thing for one of these stations to shake, for they are firmly anchored deep down below the sand on a clay foundation. So I went to the foot of the stairs and called them aloud to tell me “what they were trying to do with the house?” They replied, “We were asleep. The shaking awoke us; we thought you men were up to some of your antics." Then the Captain said, “There has been an earthquake somewhere,” and called several of the stations over the phone for information. No one knew, but each station called reported that the shaking was plainly felt. Next morning our party went over on Knott’s Island to gather hanging moss, and there learned that the quake was so heavy that many people left their houses, and spent the remainder of the night in wagon sheds or in the woods. The atmosphere on the beach was thick, sultry, a perfect calm, with presently a heavy sea that set in suddenly, and with no apparent cause, and then subsided. This was the situation before the quake was felt, and aroused comment among these veterans, who knew the ocean as the plowman knows his field.
Many are the queer stories told of the doings of the Islanders that night when the mysterious trembling of the earth aroused them from their slumbers. One old man and his wife dragged a feather-bed out of their humble home, turned a cart-body bottom upwards under a tree in the yard, and spent the remainder of the night under that cover in comparative comfort. It is said that an early traveler coming over to the Island met a man, his wife and several children, driving a cow and her calf, and carrying a coop of chickens. The man said in reply to the question, “Are you moving away?” "Yes, the Lord shook everything to pieces last night; you might have known ’twas gwine ter happen: that Island is jest setting out there in the mud anyhow, so I'm gwine where there is something substantial ter live on!" And so he went on toward the mainland: for you understand, this great body of land lying between the mainland and the ocean is cut off from the mainland by a great marsh, and the waters north of the marsh are connected with Currituck Sound, south of the marsh by creeks; and the Island is reached by a road, as rough as any in this country, and as crooked, from Morse’s Point five miles long. There are eleven bridges and twenty-two bends in that road. It is said that if you see a person traveling on that road a long way off you cannot tell which way the person is traveling till you get opposite on a parallel stretch! This may be a severe tax on the imagination, but of this I am sure, the road is about as crooked as the proverbial ward politician, and as rough as corduroy can make it. When the south wind prevails the waters of Currituck Sound back up through the hundreds of creeks and “runs” in the vast stretches of marsh, and flood that road, making travel both rough and dangerous. My wife and I crossed the Marsh on that road on the evening of July 26, 1886, and we have never forgotten the horrible hour required to make the trip. I was in the midst of a protracted meeting on Knotts Island, and was called away to unite in matrimony Mr. Keeling McLin and Miss Mary Stewart, a sister of whom in later years became the wife of Rev. W. L. Murphy, of our Conference. I drove home, twenty-five miles to the parsonage at Nimmo’s, got a fresh horse, took my wife with me to the marriage, and, after the ceremony, drove down through West’s Neck, across “East River” over “Brooklyn Bridge,” to Capps’ Shop on Pungo Ridge. There George Bowden met me with my old reliable “Sam Tilden," about 6:30 PM. It was just getting dark when we struck out from Morse’s Point on the dreaded Marsh Road to Knott’s Island. The road was flooded with the back-water from the Sound. The eight foot ditch on either side six feet deep was a sleeping giant, into whose gaping mouth a fall meant death. I gave “Sam” a loose rein, and besought him to do his best. And he did it! Neither Mrs. Butts nor I spoke a word during that entire tedious, miserable, terrifying hour. When we struck the hard ground on the Island I asked my wife, “Are you glad?" She replied with an air of relief, "Yes, ain’t you?" On our arrival at the church at 8:30 P. M., I found a meeting of great power in progress as the fruit of a very strong exhortation by Bro. Devany Waterfield, and the altar crowded with penitents. The brethren asked me, after service, when I crossed the Marsh Road. When I told them I had crossed since dusk, they were rather inclined to doubt my word, but when I referred to my wife as a witness, they “caved in” one by one, and a very good friend of ours said, “I would not have done that for ten dollars ” “Ah,” said I, “When one has a good wife by his side to steady his nerves, a good horse to do the pulling and the Good Lord to guide the horse, there is a positive elimination of danger.” He replied, “I reckon that is true.” And I knew it was true!
Many a good hour have I spent on the Marshes of Back Bay, Shipp’s Bay, North Bay, and other good points, waiting for the coming of the wary wild game flying up against a head wind, looking for some quiet feeding place. I got very few shots, but I had a great deal of excitement, and many a bag of ducks and geese and swan. When I did, by some strange conjunction of fortuitous circumstances, (or words to that effect) get a shot my enthusiasm was intense, and the conversation on the remarkable incident would cover many days: in fact, till some weary mortal, whose patience had been taxed to the limit, would cry out, “Oh, give us a rest: ducks are shot on this marsh every day” Then my collapse into indignant silence could be heard a long way off. On several occasions, my thirst for wild game blood would stir some one of these non-communicative duckers to play a trick on me by sending me out in the dark to walk a narrow plank to find a duck-blind located somewhere out there in the grass. I went out on a certain night from Cedar Island, on such an expedition. John Williams and my son-in-law, G. S. Marchant, insisted that just about dusk two elegant swan had been seen feeding on the north end blind. Young Simpson, (Mrs. Williams’ brother) offered to go with me if I wanted a good shot. Of course I went. We trailed through the field and then through the tall grass, and suddenly came out upon the water’s edge. We hid ourselves there; then Simpson went off to another point to reconnoiter. He soon returned and reported two “big fellows" close up to the shore feeding in imagined security, oblivious of the fact that the “mighty hunter” of the Virginia Annual Conference, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South lay there on the shore in ambush awaiting the set time for their death. Simpson said in a whisper, “Follow me.” I followed so stealthily that it seemed to me that I was actually creeping in a whisper! We reached the point of opportunity, and Simpson told me he would count “three" in a whisper, and then both of us would fire, simultaneously and at the same time. He counted off the fateful seconds with cruel precision, and I fired. But the swan did not fly! They sat as if chained to the bottom with a ton of lead. Then Simpson exclaimed, “Them’s made swan: sister made ’em”. Disgusted, ashamed, that we should have been the victims of so heartless a scheme, we tramped back to the house, through the dark and the briers to be greeted at the door with the serious inquiry, “Where is you swan?" We did not learn till next day that the jesters with our dignity were under that roof and in that room when we returned from our fruitless tramp, and that John Williams’ wife added much to the success of the conspiracy against our innocence by furnishing her husband and Mr Marchant with the stuffed decoys.
On this same trip, and from the western side of Cedar Island I had better luck. We had waited throughout three warm days for the ducks to fly. Nothing came our way. At length, when weary with waiting, and almost exasperated from lack of luck, the wind changed Friday morning to the north-east. This brought first a cold driving mist, then snow and sleet. About 3:30 P. M. that day a large bunch of Red Heads were seen from our blind, coming toward us with the speed of the “Fast Mail.” We, (young Simpson and I,) made ready to shoot; and, when this cloud of flying life almost reached our decoys, each of us let them have a load right in the face. After they passed we gave them the other barrel. Ducks fell all around. Marchant and Williams up in the yard of Williams’ home said “It rained ducks for about a minute.” That must have been true, for Simpson and I picked up on the water eleven dead ducks and six cripples! That was fun enough for one trip, so Marchant and I quit and went home. I was serving the Mathews circuit at that time.
Mr. Marchant and I were down there on another trip when we had the, to us, unusual experience of being present and lending some assistance to the Life Saving Service at Wash Woods and False Cape in landing a crew of eight Italians, seven Swedes, and a negro from the wreck of the Bark “Clythia," on its way from Genoa, Italy, to Baltimore, Md., loaded with marble. The crews from the two stations named were on the beach, awaiting the subsidence of the sea, when Marchant and l arrived from the Duck Blind over in the marsh opposite False Cape. Bill Bowden carried us ashore quickly when both of us expressed the wish to visit the wreck. The Captain came ashore ‘first in the Breaches buoy to learn his whereabouts. He said he thought he was entering Chesapeake Bay off Cape Henry, and was surprised to find himself ashore between two bars cut off from retreat until too late. He went back to the vessel in the Buoy, and began sending his men ashore, one at a time; then he himself came. When the negro came he brought with him a large market basket, and in the basket a beautiful brown haired ducking dog, which he gave to John Williams. This splendid animal became the brood dog for scores of ducking dogs throughout that region, and died at last of old age.
Throughout the summer and fall of 1887 the leading men on the circuit were planning the division of the work. It was the judgment of my predecessor, Brother Hank, that this should be done, but the people were not ready for the movement at the time that he left the charge. In the meantime the work had developed so that the pastoral care of nearly 1,250 members in eleven congregations demanded a change of some kind. Then, by resolution of the Fourth Quarterly Conference of 1887, the request went up to Bishop Key at the session in Danville in November that a new circuit be formed composed of Beach Grove. Charity, Bethel, Knott’s Island, and Wash Woods to be called the South Princess Anne circuit, leaving Nimmo’s. Tabernacle, Salem, Providence and Little Neck in the old circuit. The question of the location of the parsonage for the new circuit had to be settled before Conference, and the settlement of that matter brought about a feeling in certain quarters which threatened the spiritual life of many of the people on both sides of the question for a while. But the better spirit prevailed, and the simmering pot which had threatened to boil over cooled down and everything went off pleasantly. The site was finally selected at Capps’ Shop, or “Pleasant Ridge,” as it was called later on. The Norfolk Southern Railway to Munden’s Point now passes within one mile of the preacher’s home, and that whole county has moved out into the world.
At my suggestion the old Providence church at Sea Tack, which was nothing but a dilapidated hull, not worth repairing, and located out of reach of the bulk of the congregation and too near Virginia Beach, was sold, and a new building begun near Tunis’s (now Oceana) station on the Virginia Beach Railroad. Miss Jaca Brock, daughter of Bro. Harrison Brock, was one of the enthusiastic workers in this movement, and it was mainly through her intelligent and persevering leadership that this enterprise was carried forward. The lumber was put in place for the construction of the new building at the head of the Great Neck road near the residence of Bro. Harrison Brock: but later it was decided to build on its present location on the corner of the farm of Mr. William Gornto nearer the station. The work was begun and I went off to Conference.
Note: Rev Butts was transferred to the Wright Memorial Church in Portsmouth in December 1887.

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