Five Years in the Alleghanies

In Short

This memoir chronicles the five-year mission of a colporteur—a traveling distributor of religious literature—working through the mid-19th-century Alleghany Mountains. Published by the American Tract Society in 1863, the book details the author’s encounters with a diverse frontier population, ranging from desperate, isolated families to hardened skeptics and distillery owners. It serves as both a firsthand account of missionary logistics and a testament to the author’s fervent belief in the power of the printed word to transform lives. Its enduring character lies in its raw, unfiltered look at a vanished American landscape.

The Story

The narrative begins with the author, an earnest man convinced that his steps are directed by a higher power, setting out to distribute books and tracts in a region characterized by deep spiritual and educational destitution. He arrives in a territory where churches and schools are often nonexistent, and where the prevailing culture is defined by hard labor, alcohol, and indifference to religion. His strategy is simple but confrontational: he enters homes, grog-shops, and mills, offering books not as a merchant, but as a messenger.

The journey takes him through various trials, from being threatened by a fist-wielding, hostile farmer to engaging in tense debates with distillery owners who view his "Yankee" presence as a financial threat. He moves from cabin to cabin, often relying on the kindness of strangers or the hospitality of local sympathizers to secure lodging. Throughout, he maintains an ironclad rule: never travel or spend time with another person without speaking on the subject of religion.

As he traverses the mountains, the narrative shifts from individual encounters to broader community shifts. He helps organize Sunday schools in areas where children have never seen a book, and he recruits local men to join his mission, watching as they grow from inexperienced, intimidated youths into confident, articulate ministers. He finds that even the most "wicked" settlements can be reached if a persistent effort is made to engage them in conversation and prayer.

The arc of the book reaches a climax in the accounts of "Pentecostal seasons"—revival-like gatherings in forests, graveyards, or makeshift arbors where hundreds of people assemble to hear sermons. These events often result in mass conversions and the permanent organization of new churches. The author recounts the heartbreaking struggles of those who resist, alongside the joy of those who repent. He concludes not with a sense of personal triumph, but with a plea for the continued support of the colportage system, arguing that the true work was done by God through the humble medium of printed literature. He reflects on the "blazing" of a trail, not with an ax, but with the seeds of faith, leaving a record of the many lives he believes were saved before he moved on to expand his mission across Virginia and North Carolina.

How It Unfolds

The call to mission The author describes his internal preparation and the initial hesitation he feels when facing the formidable task of evangelizing strangers in a bustling, often godless environment. He finds strength through prayer and Scripture, ultimately learning that his perceived weakness is the very tool required for his work.

The front lines of colportage The narrative moves into the daily reality of visiting grog-shops, mills, and private homes. He encounters resistance from liquor-sellers who see his tracts as a threat to their business and from families who have long lived without the comfort or structure of organized religion.

The mountain encounters Traveling through the hills, the author encounters a variety of characters, including an infirmed woman who loses her Bible to her children’s schooling and a wealthy, defiant distiller who tries to fleece him. These vignettes highlight the stark divide between those who hunger for spiritual guidance and those who actively oppose it.

The expansion of the work The author begins training others, bringing a young, inexperienced companion into the fold and watching him transform into a dedicated preacher. This transition reinforces the idea that the colporteur’s mission is about building a sustainable system of local leadership rather than just a temporary presence.

The harvest of souls The final chapters focus on the successful organization of revivals and the formalization of churches in remote regions. The author concludes with a reflection on the long-term impact of his efforts, noting that thousands of families were reached and many children learned to read through his agency.

The People

The author acts as the central consciousness, a man of rigid, uncompromising conviction who views every interaction as a potential turning point for a soul. He is deeply empathetic but also socially intrusive, driven by an urgent belief in the impending judgment of all people.

The people he meets often fall into two camps: the "destitute" and the "hardened." The destitute are represented by families living in isolated cabins, often illiterate and lacking basic resources, who view the author’s books as precious treasures. The hardened are represented by figures like the fist-clenching farmer or the defiant young lady who scorns his "Puritanical" religion. These figures serve as foils to the author, testing his resolve and providing the conflict that propels his narrative forward.

The "young companion," a man the author mentors, represents the growth of the mission. He starts as a timid, unrefined youth and eventually becomes a capable, eloquent minister, illustrating the author's belief that his system of labor develops the dormant power within the church.

Finally, there are the "backsliders" and skeptics—wealthy landowners or educated professionals—who represent the intellectual and social barriers the author must overcome. They are often defined by their pride, which the author seeks to break through direct, often uncomfortable, confrontation.

In Its Own Voice

"I then repeated the text, 'Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.' And after preaching him a sermon from it near a mile long, he observed, 'Well, sir, that is very good theology.'"

The author recalls a chance encounter with an "elegant young man" on the road, where he immediately pivots to a theological lecture.

"I saw the father was offended too. Rev. Mr. C---- and I both felt unhappy; but in a few minutes we were called to dinner, and Mr. C---- introduced me to two other daughters, which made all the family."

The author describes the social friction of his mission, where his religious focus often causes immediate, tangible discomfort in a household.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the "power of the printed word" as a catalyst for social and spiritual change. The book argues that literacy is the primary bridge between a life of "nature" and a life of civilization or piety. It posits that the isolated, forgotten corners of the Appalachian frontier are not beyond reach, provided that a determined individual is willing to bring the tools of faith directly to the doorstep.

Underlying the plot is the question of duty: the author operates on the premise that ignoring an opportunity to share one's faith is a moral failing. The book is an argument for the efficiency and necessity of the colportage system, suggesting that it is more effective at reaching the "destitute" than established, sedentary church structures. It is a work of religious advocacy that views the frontier not as a place to be settled, but as a field to be harvested.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the American frontier or the evolution of evangelical practice will find this a fascinating, if occasionally challenging, document. It offers a rare, granular look at the social fabric of 19th-century Appalachia, capturing the dialect, the customs, and the intense, often brutal, conditions of life in the mountain gorges.

The reading experience is earnest and intensely personal. You are brought into the confidence of a man who truly believes that a single book can save a life, and his conviction gives the prose a singular, unwavering intensity. However, a modern reader must be prepared for the author's relentless proselytizing and his rigid, 19th-century worldview, which views non-believers and those who enjoy "the novel, the ballroom, or the theatre" with profound suspicion. The book does not shy away from the author’s own intrusive behavior, which he frames as a virtue. It is a demanding read, not for its length, but for its unyielding moral seriousness. It remains with you as a testament to a specific, intense form of idealism that once sought to knit the American frontier together through a common, printed language of faith.