A Missionary’s Demise at Sea

By J. J. F. Auch

Translator’s Preface

In January of 1850, a 20-year-old Johannes Strieter set out from Freedom Township, west of Ann Arbor, Michigan, and headed north to Saginaw to pay his sister Dorothea and her husband, Missionary J. J. F. Auch, an extended visit. In Saginaw Missionary Auch picked Strieter up in his sled and drove him to their home in Sebewaing, on the western coast of the “thumb” of Michigan. There Strieter helped out as much as he could with the Lutheran mission to the Chippewas there. He also spent time with Missionary J. F. Maier at the Shebahyonk station, about seven miles northeast of Sebewaing.

Strieter clearly enjoyed his time there, including his time with Missionary Maier, who had a good sense of humor. Missionary Maier was also married to a Dorothea, the sister of Missionary Auch who had been confirmed with Strieter at Salem Lutheran Church in Scio. When Strieter left with Friedrich August Crämer to begin his pre-seminary studies in Frankenmuth in the spring of that year, after helping to build the new mission house in Shebahyonk, the parting was a sad one.

In the article below, Missionary Auch describes the tragic demise of Missionary Maier in the fall of that year. By that time Strieter was actually attending the seminary in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Although Strieter doubtless heard of the tragedy, he does not mention it in his autobiography. Still today and even in English, Auch’s emotion is palpable.

You can view Missionary Maier’s grave at Find A Grave.

Mission News

Sibiwaing [sic]
November 28, 1850

Most Reverend Mr. President!1

A difficult task has been assigned to me by the Lord, that of informing you and our entire synod of the terrible misfortune that befell our mission on the fifteenth of this month. Mr. Missionary Maier and another man by the name of Haushahn, a resident here, found their grave in the Saginaw Bay on the just-mentioned day. They set out from Sibiwaing on the 12th with the purpose of bringing winter provisions back home and set sail from Lower Saginaw2 for the return trip on the 15th with a favorable, though very strong wind, and when it grew stronger and stronger, and there was also such a thick fog on the sea that they could only see a short distance ahead, they came right into the worst spot of breakers on the entire east side of the Saginaw Bay, and here they were shipwrecked, perhaps a half mile from shore and six miles from Sibiwaing. Just as I was returning to Sibiwaing from Shiboyank [sic],3 Mr. Missionary Maier’s place of residence, where I had held divine service in his absence, I found a man at my door with a note from a merchant who had been so kind as to bring the boat’s cargo into his custody. This note contained the terrible news. Mrs. Missionary Maier4 was actually staying with us during her husband’s absence and was now notified of her husband’s misfortune at the same time we were. I will not describe the heart-rending scene that followed. May the Lord from whose hand this distress came also comfort us according to his great mercy. To him be praise, thanks, and honor for such mercy!

The next day I rode out to the spot and found things as they had been reported to me, the mast on the boat broken off, the boat itself overturned, and the cargo scattered over a half-mile stretch of the shore. Although I rode back and forth along the shore nearly eight miles, the only thing I could find was Mr. Maier’s cap drifting along the shore. How horrible I felt! The day after that I went back to the spot of the accident with our German settlers here, who proved very devoted and sympathetic to the cause and flipped the boat back up in the water. But after we had once again searched all around in the water for the bodies for a long time and to no avail, we returned home to Sibiwaing with the badly damaged load of flour.

I then discontinued any further searching until last Monday, the 25th. On that day, I once again went out to the spot in the company of our interpreter, Mr. Maier’s brother, who had made his way here at the news of his brother’s death, and with another man. Two miles above the site of the accident, I and Mr. Maier’s brother climbed ashore and, while the other men continued in an Indian boat, we went searching along the shore. On the way I found a coat belonging to Mr. Maier, in addition to other small articles from the boat. Finally we came to the place where we had found the most flour and as I turned my gaze forward, I saw Brother Maier on his face in front of me, his coat over his head, the waves beating against him, lying on the shore in water perhaps four inches deep. Calling out to his brother, I hurried over. Ugh, what a sorry sight! We turned him over, his hands were washed snow-white, his face was puce, his skull bashed in. Maier’s brother was wailing dreadfully. I did my best to comfort him with God’s Word, but the pain my own heart was in to see my brother-in-law in that condition right there in front of me—there are no words to describe it. We also found the other man just sixty paces away from Mr. Maier. We returned home. On the next day we buried them and thereby sowed the first seed corns on the mission property here in Sibiwaing that are looking forward to a blessed resurrection [cf. John 12:24,25].

Mr. Missionary Maier was faithful in his calling. I can vouch for this on his behalf in good conscience. He lived to his Lord in faith, and so we also have the assurance from God’s unchangeable Word that he has also died to the Lord [cf. Romans 14:7-9]. He lived to the age of 27 years, one month, and 11 days.

His death has left a gaping hole in our mission. Who is going to fill it? — Our Indian congregation is very sorrowful. When I comforted them with God’s Word, the chief told me, “Yes, we now have a spiritual shepherd under us, who is proclaiming God’s Word to us; I sincerely rejoice with my people in that fact. I was intending to see myself soon put into a position where I would be able to teach God’s Word myself, but what are our prospects now? Night and darkness now surround us again, when I think of going to school. Yet I do believe what you told us from God’s Word, that ‘for those who love God, all things must serve for the best.’”5

“…”

I have now taken over Shiboyank again, trusting in God’s assistance. I have promised to hold service there every Sunday and, when the weather permits, once during the week too. I have also started up Indian school again. Here in Sibiwaing I am responsible for the Indians and perhaps eight German families. Consequently there is not a single hour in which I do not see myself surrounded with work on all sides. Oh, how unfit I feel for such a serious calling! There are many times I almost do not know how to keep my faith from dwindling. If God’s Word were not my comfort, I would surely perish. I therefore ask the entire synod and especially you, dear Mr. President, to remember me in your petitions to the Lord as your lowly fellow brother. May the Lord show mercy and provide another shepherd for the abandoned sheep in Shiboyank in the near future! These sheep have begged me to please earnestly stress to the synod how dire their situation is, along with the request that they be sent another spiritual shepherd in the near future. God grant it, etc., etc.

J. J. F. Auch.

Source
Der Lutheraner, vol. 7, no. 8 (December 10, 1850), pp. 63-64

Endnotes
1 That is, the president of the German Evangelical Lutheran Synod of Missouri, Ohio, and Other States (today the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod), namely F. C. D. Wyneken, who was also serving as pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in St. Louis at the time

2 That is, Bay City. According to Herman Zehnder, the name of this sailing vessel was the Huron (Teach My People the Truth, p. 79).

3 Now usually spelled Shebahyonk. The location of this Native American community and mission station is today roughly identical with the unincorporated community of Weale, about seven miles northeast of Sebewaing near the mouth of Shebeon Creek.

4 The author’s sister (see Translator’s Preface)

5 The author seems to be quoting the chief of the Chippewas at Shebahyonk. We have conflicting reports on this chief’s position with respect to Christianity. His name is variously spelled Nocktschikome (letter from Friedrich August Crämer to Wilhelm Löhe, July 25, 1845), Nage-Dschikamik, Nage Dschickamik (both in Strieter’s autobiography, describing events of 1850 predating the events of this article), and Meganigischik (Herman Zehnder, Teach My People the Truth, p. 83, apparently citing Frankenmuth church records from 1849). Strieter says that his name meant Great Chief, and he describes a powwow he attended, sometime around early spring of 1850, at which the chief denigrated the Christian God in favor of the great spirit of the Chippewas and their dancing rites for worshipping him. When Strieter went back to the spot the following morning, “there lay the chief dead-drunk, with his squaw sitting next to him, watching over him.” However, we do know that the chief’s brother converted (taking the Christian name Sam) and was married in the Lutheran church in Frankenmuth, and perhaps this article is indication that the chief himself also converted later in 1850. Perhaps it was precisely because of the chief’s decidedly unchristian character and conduct earlier that same year that Auch was left speechless in response to his strong affirmation of Christian faith here.

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Life of Tilemann Heshusius

Tilemann Heshusius, taken from Leuckfeld's 1716 biography. The caption reads: "This is Heshusius, a man of great gifts | Whom few truly appreciated; many rejected him | My reader, read this work; consider it impartially | And see whether or not people have done too much to Heshusius."

Tilemann Heshusius, taken from Leuckfeld’s 1716 biography. The caption reads: “This is Heshusius, a man of great gifts | Whom few truly appreciated; many rejected him | My reader, read this work; consider it impartially | And see whether or not people have done too much to Heshusius.”

Translator’s Preface

My first introduction to Tilemann Heshusius (also spelled Heshus or Heshusen) was in either Survey of Theological German or European Lutheran German Writings – two courses I took at Martin Luther College. From time to time the professor would hold Fluffstunden or “fluff classes,” so named because we had no homework due for those classes. In the “fluff classes,” he would tell us about the life and work of various famous Lutherans, usually the Lutheran author of whichever work we happened to be working through at the time.

The detail that stuck out for myself and many students during the “fluff class” on Tilemann Heshusius was that Heshusius supposedly got kicked out of one of his positions for decking a Crypto-Calvinist. (This same professor, now retired, also likes to tell the story of the student who was unfamiliar with Crypto-Calvinism and thus erroneously thought that what the professor found so amusing about Heshusius was that he had decked a “crippled Calvinist.”)

I recently had the opportunity to glean from Heshusius’ knowledge in preparation for a sermon on Isaiah 40:31. God willing, I will post the fruits of that labor later this week. In the process, I thought it would also be a good idea to review Heshusius’ life, which was indeed characterized by battles with Crypto-Calvinism, although I was unable to confirm the story of his physical altercation. Crypto-Calvinists were Calvinists posing as Lutherans who undermined and weakened especially the biblical (and Lutheran) teaching about baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

The definitive biography on Heshusius is Johann Georg Leuckfeld’s Historia Heshusiana oder Historische Nachricht von dem Leben, Bedienungen und Schrifften Tilemanni Heßhusii (Quedlinburg and Aschersleben, 1716), available at the Post-Reformation Digital Library. Lacking the time to translate Leuckfeld, I opted to work through “Tilemann Heshusius’ Leben,” a relatively short piece that was copied from the preface of an 1862 reprint of one of Heshusius’ works and printed in the October 29, 1862, issue (vol. 19, no. 5) of Der Lutheraner (ed. C. F. W. Walther). The endnotes below are my own.

Men like Heshusius always make me as a pastor wonder just how soft we American Lutherans have become in adhering to and defending the truth. May the Lord of the Church use the example of Heshusius at the very least to urge us on to a more zealous promotion and defense of the true and pure doctrine of his Word.

Life of Tilemann Heshusius

In the last issue we advertised the little book by Heshusius, Who Has the Authority, Eligibility, and Right to Call Preachers? [Wer Gewalt, Fug und Recht habe, Prediger zu berufen?], which had just been published.1 We also promised to acquaint our readers with the turbulent life of this noteworthy man.2 We will do this by sharing the short biography that can be found in the preface of the just-mentioned little book, which we hereby strongly recommend to our readers yet again. In the preface just referred to, it reads as follows:

Tilemann Heshusius, the author of this little book, not only generally occupies a place among the most learned, brilliant, godly, and experienced theologians and among the most forceful and faithful warriors for the pure doctrine of Luther in our church, but it was precisely many of his particular experiences that taught him especially how important it is that the right to call and depose preachers be administered by those to whom God himself has awarded it in his word, namely, by the church or congregation. The entire life of our Heshusius was namely, as Heinsius notes in his church history, “an almost continual wandering,” and in fact for this reason in particular: At his time partly the secular government and partly the so-called religious leaders [Geistlichkeit] almost exclusively arrogated to themselves all ecclesiastical authority, and especially the authority to call and depose public ministers [Kirchendiener]. If this authority had been in the hands of his congregations, who mostly stuck by him as a highly gifted and zealous preacher of God’s word, then he would not have taken the walking stick in his hand as often as he did, and would not have had to experience the distress of abandoning his cherished congregations and surrendering them to false teachers.

The life and activity of our Heshusius occurred mainly in that period immediately after Luther’s death, during which the Crypto-Calvinists (that is, the secret, disguised Calvinists) were infiltrating many Lutheran churches, while the faithful followers of Luther were using all kinds of tricks in an attempt to eliminate them from their positions, and in the process were getting secular authority on their side. Now the more zealously Heshusius held tightly to the jewel of the pure Lutheran doctrine and to the church discipline that was grounded in it and continued to expose and battle for his flock the wolves in sheep’s clothing that had snuck in everywhere, those wolves were all the more furious in assailing him and causing him every sorrow one can only imagine, along with their fellow party members. One counts at least seven exiles which this valuable witness had to endure during his life for the sake of the truth.

He was born on November 3, 1527, in Wesel in the Duchy of Cleves. After he had attended various German and French universities, he became a master in 1550 at the University of Wittenberg, and a doctor of theology there in 1553, after he had already become superintendent in Goslar the year before.3 But since he would not discharge his ministry according to the instructions of the burgomaster of Goslar, he experienced his first exile here as a result of the burgomaster’s intrigues. This happened in 1556; yet he received a call to Rostock as preacher and professor of theology that same year. Here too he only had a resting-place for a short time. Controversies arose over the introduction of a better Sunday celebration and over the abolition of certain papistic ceremonies that were still being retained there. Here too Heshusius found the burgomaster to be a decided opponent, who also finally brought it about, even against the duke’s will, that Heshusius had to leave the city after only a year had passed. But still in the same year (1557) he received the honor of being a professor primarius, a president of the church council, and a general superintendent in Heidelberg. Scarcely had he taken up these positions when he got wrapped up in a harsh battle with the Calvinists who had infiltrated there, particularly with his deacon, named Klebitz, a battle which ended yet again with his deposition in 1559.

He then became superintendent in Bremen, but since the council there would not dismiss the Calvinist Hardenberg, Heshusius himself resigned and went from there to Magdeburg, where in fact he received the pastorate at the Church of St. John in 1560 and the position of superintendent in 1561. But he would not refrain from publicly testifying against the Crypto-Calvinists, Synergists, and others, and he felt compelled to pronounce the ban on the city council. So finally in 1562, after he continued preaching in spite of the prohibition he had received, one day (it was October 21) he was suddenly and forcibly conducted out of the city in the middle of the night.4 He then stayed for a while in Wesel, the city of his birth, until he also had to withdraw from this city in 1564 on account of his stern writings against the papists.

Now after he had lived for a brief period in Frankfurt, he became court preacher of the Count Palatine of Zweibrücken in Neuburg, then in 1569 professor of theology in Jena until 1573, when he was again dismissed from his position on account of his zeal against Crypto-Calvinism, but was soon thereafter chosen to be the Bishop of Samland. But this honor was also taken back away from him already in 1577 on account of a theological controversy with Wigand. After he had then withdrawn to Lübeck for a brief period, he followed a new call to be professor primarius in Helmstädt, where he then remained until his blessed end, which followed on September 25, 1588. In 1578 he had had the misfortune of falling into a cellar, as a result of which he had to limp until his death.

For those who are unfamiliar with the period in which Hehusius lived and with the intrigues of the enemies of the pure Word that were rampant within the Lutheran Church at that time, Heshusius may appear to be a quarrelsome man judging from what precedes. But anyone familiar only with Heshusius’ Little Prayer Book [Betbüchlein], for example, will soon note that, while this cherished man was engaged in a constant battle with men that was forced upon him, he was living in the peace of God and finding in God’s lap the rest that the hostile world was denying him.

Endnotes

1 The book was advertised in the October 15 issue thus: “The following little book has just been published: Who Has the Authority, Eligibility, and Right to Call Preachers? By Dr. Tilemann Heshusius. Printed unaltered according to the original edition of 1561. St. Louis, Mo. Publishing House of L. Volkening. 1862” (p. 32). The reprinted book was 40 octavo pages [Seiten] and cost 15 cents.

2 This promise was made in a footnote.

3 This accords with Leuckfeld’s biography (p. 4-5), but according to the Real-Encyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche (2nd ed.), Heshusius became superintendent of Goslar in 1553 and obtained his doctorate on May 5, 1555. A footnote at this point in the Der Lutheraner article says that around this time Heshusius married the daughter of the well-known zealous theologian Simon Musaeus, but he did not marry Barbara Musaeus until 1566 after he was widowed. His first wife was Anna Berthen, the daughter of the burgomaster of Wesel.

4 Leuckfeld says that the border warden (Marckmeister) and 30 to 40 armed citizens invaded Heshusius’ parsonage property, and they “occupied house, property, garden, and everything, so that no one could get out or in, while nearly 500 fully armed citizens had to be stationed at the door, since he [Heshusius] was then forcibly driven out of the city by them at three o’clock at night as far as the cloister [bis zur Cluß],* along with his very pregnant wife, whose developing child [Frucht] they also did not spare even in the womb” (p. 33). * Cluß appears to be a variant for Klause, which means cell, cloister, hermitage, or (narrow) mountain pass.

Strieter Autobiography: The Accident

[Continued from Part 15. If you have not yet read Part 1, click here.]

Into the Ministry

In 1852 synod convention was in Fort Wayne at the end of June and beginning of July. A pastor came from Holmes County, Ohio, B[esel],1 a Basel student who colloquized and was taken up as a member of the synod. B[esel] came to Crämer and requested a preacher for a congregation by Coshocton which he had taken from a United preacher.2 Crämer sent for me and told me that I had to take my examination and go with B[esel]. Röder3 and I were actually slated to be missionaries to the Indians. Crämer even gave us private instruction. That was delightful! He had the book of Matthew in the Chippewa language. There Röder would sit on one side and I on the other, each with his Testament open. Crämer would read to us in Indian and we would repeat it. Then we would copy down the dreadful words in order to memorize them for homework. Chippewa had long, difficult [welsche] words. But the reason for that was because the language had so few words and everything had to be paraphrased. Miessler, subsequently a doctor in Chicago, who became Baierlein’s successor in Bethany, told me when he left us (much to our chagrin) that Chippewa had its roots in Hebrew.4 I asked Crämer not to send me away yet, but my pleading was in vain.

At eight o’clock I had to take my seat in front of my Crämer and Dr. Sihler. My schoolmates sat behind me. Crämer examined me until ten o’clock; then, after a short break, the doctor tackled me. His first question was, “Strieter, what’s in Matthew 13?” Fortunately I knew. But now I was also supposed to say what was taught in those parables. How that went I don’t remember any more, but I received a certificate saying I was sufficiently qualified for the preaching ministry [Predigtamt].5

On July 4 we headed out from Fort Wayne on the canal amid fanfare [mit Musik]. In Toledo we boarded the steamer to Sandusky; from there to Monroe; from there to Detroit; from there to Cleveland. At midday there was bloody beefsteak etc. Schaller and others did not want to eat the steak, but Schwan6 and I dug in. In the evening Schaller thought that if the steak was served again, he would eat it, but it did not return. In Cleveland B[esel] and I went with Schwan, who lived in a small little frame house; his son Paul was a small boy.

Soon we traveled a stretch on the railroad, then continued on the canal. We got off in Massillon. On shore stood an old, respectable Pennsylvania Dutch7 farmer by the name of Arnold. He received us joyfully and led us down the street to a small inn. A young man from the east, a baker, was with us, who was going to visit his mother. Arnold had a fourteen-year-old fellow with him who worked for him. Now the horses were retrieved – four splendid animals, the oldest eight years old – and harnessed to a wagon. The old father had brought a load of wheat to market. His wagon did not have a box, but planks on the side, with a small board across them on which B[esel] took his seat with Arnold. The baker positioned his trunk behind those two and he and I sat on that. Behind us stood a plow and a sack of salt. The back horse on the left had a saddle on his back, the front horse on the left had the reins, and the young fellow took his seat in the saddle.8 I ask, “Can the boy even drive?”

“Oh sure! He drove the whole way here.”

We start out; the horses are in a walk. When we went a little downhill, they trotted a little and then continued at a walk. Arnold had a lot of questions about the synod convention and B[esel] told him about it. Now we went uphill, probably for a mile or more. The path went up in snake turns. At the top it was level again, then downhill. It didn’t take long before the back left horse whinnied and fired out, and now we were off and running, all four as fast as they could.

B[esel] cried, “Hoh!”

Arnold cried, “Hoh!”

But the horses did not want to hoh!

Arnold called to the boy, “Hang on tight!” Arnold grabbed the pieces of wood in front of him and hung on and let the horses run as they wished.

At first I thought, “You go to the end and drop yourself down; it’s not too high.” But then another thought came to me right away: “You are the only one who can still maybe provide help. If the horse stops kicking out, then make your way out on tongue and get on the horse behind the boy and draw the front horses to the side.” But the animal wouldn’t stop kicking. You could always see the shiny horseshoes on the bottom of his feet flashing in the air. On the right the water had torn a deep ditch, in places at least six feet deep or so. The wagon often came so close to going in this ditch that I thought, “Now it’s going to tip over,” but it always kept going past.

Finally we came to the climax. There was just one man who wanted to get up the hill with his load. “Now,” I thought, “something’s going to happen!” I was right. He quickly got off to the side when he saw us coming, but his back wheel was still on the rut. Our back axle met with his, and just like that I was lying in the distance, not far from the fence. A small sandbank was there, runoff from the hill; I shoot like an arrow headfirst into the sand, making a hole in it as big as a hen’s nest. Right next to this hole, a handbreadth or so away, a stone is lying in the ground as large as a plate and protruding from the ground. I sit up and rub the sand out of my ears and think, “Well, our dear God has sure protected you from a sudden death.” For if I had landed on that stone, I would have bashed my brains out. My baker slid down fairly close to me without injury, ran to me right away and said, “Are you hurt?” and marveled with me at my good fortune that I had not hit the stone.

On the path stood the baker’s trunk, planks were lying there, and behind me, over there along the fence, were the back wheels, the plow, and the big sack of salt, with half of it spilled out from the bottom. The others were gone. We looked around, and here comes my B[esel]. He had hung on tight to the crosspiece on which the shaft sits that holds the front and back parts of the wagon together, thinking that the back wheels were still on and would run him over and kill him, and he let himself be dragged over the stones of the washed-out path. Finally he could not take it any more and let go. There he lay, untouched. He pulls himself together and runs toward us screaming, “O my head! O my shoulders! O my hips! O my legs!” The blood was already running into his shoes.

In the distance stood a house; from there the residents saw everything. The man of the house came over and took B[esel] with him, hitched up his buggy, loaded B[esel] up, and went home with him.

My baker and I bring the trunk and planks to the side and go wandering after our cart. Below ran a small brook with a little bridge. On the other side the bank went straight up at a steep angle. At the top it’s dug out and the path bends off to the left a bit. There the wheel ran up and flings the old father over the side,9 so hard that his shoulder turns yellow and black, and he had to carry his arm in a sling. But he still went after his horses.

The path went through the valley and back up the hill in the distance. There the saddlehorse tumbled and the boy fell, right between the horses, who dragged him by the saddle strap over the stones up the hill. When they reached the top, the strap ripped, and my boy lay there. A house stood close to the path. The people come out and carry the boy inside. The man hitches a horse to a stone drag; they lay the boy on it and bring him to the inn, several miles or so further.

In front of the inn, where the horses usually stopped for a midday rest, stood a post and a water trough. The horses ran through between the post and the corner of the building. They still had the axle and one wheel on the tongue and they ran against the corner of the building with such force that they tore out a large stone at the bottom. The inn shook so much that the ladies inside thought that there was an earthquake and ran outside, but they soon saw what had happened. The one lady ran to the field to get the men; it was harvest time. The other one ran around the stall and grabbed the front horses by the head so that they would not run any further. They had run from the watering hole across the street alongside the stall towards the fence.

When my baker and I also arrived, the boy was lying on the floor. His mother was with him, a widow who didn’t live too far from there. The doctor was next to him. The others were standing around him, including old man Arnold, and were holding his arm. The poor boy! His back looked like a piece of raw flesh, his arm was crushed, his shoulder was dislocated, his leg was broken, and several ribs were cracked.

When the doctor was finished, he said he did not know what he looked like on the inside, but everything seemed to be all right, and the external injuries would heal quickly. I comforted the wailing mother as well as I could. —

After six to eight weeks the young man was all right again. —

B[esel] brought the bad news home and now all the sons of the old father – I believe there were four of them – went together on horseback to see what had happened to “Dad.” They gathered up the parts of the wagon and loaded everything back up. The old father said to me, “Jack will stay here” – his youngest, a handsome young man, eighteen years old – “and I will too, and you take Jack’s horse and ride home with the others.”

I said, “No, Father Arnold, you take the horse and ride home, and I will stay with the wagon.”

Arnold got on and off he went. My Jack took his four horses out of the stall and hitches them up, takes his seat in the saddle, but brings along his blacksnake. My baker and I sit on the trunk again. Jack heads out. Right away the path goes somewhat downhill and my horse on the right whinnies again and starts to cut loose, but my Jack lashes him around his body, so that it whistles. The horse jumps forward. Jack turns his whip around and whacks the animal on the forehead with the thick, yellow10 knob so hard that I expected the animal to collapse. If the horse jumped forward, it gets one one the forehead; if it jumped backwards, it gets one around the body. “Just wait, I’ll run off on you! [Wart, ich will dir weglofen!]” Jack said. He put them into a strong trot, called out, “Hoh!” and bump, they stopped, and he repeated that a number of times. It didn’t take long and the horses were like lambs.

Endnotes

1 Here we encounter the first of Strieter’s many name abbreviations. The 1852 convention proceedings for the Missouri Synod list among the voting preachers a Friedrich Besel in Holmes County, Ohio. Besel left for the Iowa Synod in 1881.

2 “United” refers to the Prussion Union, which merged the Lutheran and Reformed Churches in Prussia.

3 Ernst Gustav Hermann Miessler (1826-1916) worked with Baierlein at the Bethany mission station from 1851 to 1853, when he succeeded him. He left the preaching ministry in 1871 to study and practice medicine in Chicago, which he did from 1874-1899.

4 Strieter received a “satis” diploma. This is a classic sentence in Strieter’s autobiography, and many pastors can doubtless relate to it when recalling their seminary education.

5 Heinrich Christian Schwan (1819-1905) had been taken up as a member of the Missouri Synod in 1850. He served as pastor of Zion in Cleveland, today the second oldest church in the synod, from 1851-1899. He helped to popularize the use of the Christmas tree in American churches by placing one in Zion in 1851. He was known as a staunch, tactful, sharp, wise, modest, and refined Lutheran pastor.

6 The Pennsylvania Dutch were early German immigrants to America in the 17th and 18th centuries from what is today western and southwestern Germany. Many were refugees of war. Usually Dutch refers to the people of the Netherlands and their language, but in the label Pennsylvania Dutch it is an Americanization of Deutsch, meaning German. Since they also had their own dialect, the label was also used to refer to their descendants.

7 I.e., on the front left horse. The saddle on the back left horse remained empty, as will be made clear.

8 If I’m imagining this correctly, the horses turned left with the path on the other side of the bridge, but were going so fast that the wagon ran up partially onto the bank, thus tipping to the left, with the right front wheel higher than the left front wheel, and knocking old man Arnold out onto the path on the left side of the wagon.

9 Carl Strieter translates gelben as brass.

[Read the next part here.]